Dinner With a Spider
by AlucardLovesSteakCakes
Summary: Homra's vanguard and Scepter 4's third-in-command are acting strange as the former's birthday draws nearer. Fushimi's worried and Yata's acting...paranoid? When he suddenly disappears on his birthday, the only clue being his surprisingly disturbing sketchbook, the gang must set out to find their friend...at least what's left of him...before the spider finishes his meal...
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first K fanfiction so please be nice!**

* * *

Yata couldn't sleep.

He clutched his bed sheets with slim fingers as his body shook in fear. Cold sweat stood out on pale skin and his breathing came out in ragged gasps. His eyes were wide and bloodshot from being open for half a night and his face was stained with tears. He tried to stay as quiet as possible so as not to wake the others' behind their doors.

Moonlight poured out of the beside window and made sickly shadows on the walls.

Yata couldn't sleep.

Not while _he_ was still out there.

"Go away, go away, go away, go away, go away, go away, go away, go way, go away, go away, go away...", the boy breathed in intelligible whispers.

While the moon watched and laughed.

* * *

It had been half a year since the death of the two kings. Two, not three, because somehow the Silver King was able to return to his true body after the Colorless King was destroyed. Scepter 4 was calm and somehow, by some stroke of good fortune, Homra stayed together despite losing their king. Apparently, in Mikoto's will, their king had requested that Homra be used as a safe haven for any clan member who needed a place to stay. He had also set aside pockets of money for each of the members, large enough to support the bar and make it so that each was set in case of an emergency.

Anna, having always been homeschooled, started to go to a real school with the money that Mikoto had given her, with Kamamoto driving her there and back. Several other things had happened as well. For starters, Izumo finally got the guts to ask Seri out on a date, and despite the bizarre things she ordered, the two of them actually had a nice time. July was half way over, which also meant that the clan's favorite vanguard's twentieth birthday was coming up.

"Ne, Anna do you know what flavor of cake Yata likes?"

"...No..."

"Darn it, I can't remember what we got him last year..."

"...Ask Fushimi-kun..."

Izumo sighed and pat the young girl's head, "I don't think I can do that Anna. You know how he is..."

He glanced over to the coach and felt a ghost of a smile at the sight of Kosuke and Eric sitting side by side. Eric nibbled obediently on a taiyaki while shyly avoiding Kosuke's affectionate gaze as the latter made sure the other finished the fish-shaped treat. Kosuke and Eric, always like master-unwillingly-named and dog, had grown steadily closer after the king's death, and Izumo had a hinting suspicion that they had become an item.

The ringing of the door's chime diverted his attention. Seri waltzed over to the bar with a hidden smirk plopped down on a stool.

"Hey there."

"Ohayo Seri."

A quick kiss on the cheek, Seri refused to kiss anywhere else in public, and he went to fetch her trademark drink that made him gag. "Seri do you know what kind of cake Yata likes?"

"Why would I know something like that? You live with him, you should know."

"I forgot what we got him last year."

"I would tell you to ask Fushimi, but well...he's been out of sorts lately."

"Really? You mean he's acting more of a creeper than ususal?"

"Very funny Izumo, but no it's not that...something's just...off about him recently...he seems worried..."

"What do you mean?"

"He got into a spat with your little vanguard last week like they always do...but something must have happened because not only has been shirking off his duties more than usual, but he seems to have been losing weight. It's like he stopped eating entirely. He stares off into space and on more than one occasion has skipped work all together."

"That _is_ odd...I'll ask Yata about it later..."

"That's right, his birthday's on the twentieth, right?"

"Yup! He's going to be twenty! It's a big deal so I want to do something special this year..."

"He's turning 20 on the 20th? How ironic."

"Yeah..."

"What's wrong?"

"Actually, Yata's been acting weird too. He looks like he hasn't slept for the past week and he's more irritable than usual."

"That's because he probably isn't sleeping. People tend to get moody when they don't get their rest."

"He's been disappearing too, I haven't seen him since this morning. He didn't eat breakfast either..."

"You should get that checked out right away, he could get sick if he keeps this up."

"Both of them."

* * *

Yata weaved through the crowded streets with a empty stomach and jumbled nerves. He had left his skateboard in his room, something he never did, and had a sinking feeling in his chest. He bit his lip and pulled his jacket around him tighter, it was sunny and hazy and yet he was freezing, shivering in his skin.

"Something bad is gonna happen to me..." he mumbled to himself as he accidentally brushed by a man crossing the street.

"Something already has, my little fly."

The voice was deep and playful and Yata could _hear_ the rueful smile on the man's face. Time seemed to slow, Yata freezing in the middle of the crosswalk, people walking by at a snail's pace. The man walked in the opposite direction, the two of them side by side. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move because he was frozen in fear. Sweat beaded on the boy's face and the hair's on the back of his neck were standing up.

He could see out of the corner of his eye that the man was dressed head to toe in black. He wore what looked to be a black trench coat with a hood-something terribly out of place and yet no one else seemed to notice. The shadow of his hood hid most of his face, exposing only a pale chin and a smile too big to be normal. Yata shivered at the sight of those lips curled into a smirk that defied logic.

He whipped around violently to look at the man, only to find that he was gone and that time had restarted itself. People gave him odd looks when he whipped around from side to side to catch sight of the hooded figure.

He bit his lip and began breathing heavily, "Oh God..."

He was feeling sick, he had to get out of there...he had to get somewhere safe.

Abandoning all inhibitions, Yata sprinted down the road as fast as he could. _I have to get somewhere safe! Somewhere safe somewhere-Saru! I'll go to Saru...Saru can help me...Saru always kept me safe..._

He reached his old friend's apartment in no time, all the while looking left and right for that _man_...

Sprinting up three flights of stairs and down a hall, he practically smacked face first into the bluenette's front door. He pounded on the wood and jiggled the knob furiously, looking around wildly for any signs of _him_...

"Hai hai, calm down I'm coming."

Yata felt a flood of relief flow through him when the megane opened the door. Irriation immediatley left the bluenette face at the sight of the frightened boy. "M-Misaki what's wron-!" Yata pushed his way inside the apartment and slammed the door shut behind him, locking it hastily. Fushimi, clearly both confused, looked at his friend worriedly, "Misa-!?" Yata cut him off again by throwing himself into the other's arms and sobbing hysterically.

"DON'T LET HIM GET ME!"

Fushimi manuvered them both to the couch and gathered the trembling vanguard into his lap, holding him close. "Who's after you, Misaki? What's wrong?" The Scepter 4 captain could feel the other's heart beating wildly against his rib cage. He noted in awe that his beloved Misaki seemed so small now, so terribly afraid that he felt like his own heart was tearing in two. On the outside, he tried to keep calm and strong for the other boy, but on the inside he was a total mess. There was only one person, one _thing_, that could scare Yata like this. He prayed to a god he wasn't sure he believed in that he was wrong...

"Misaki? Misaki is...is it...is it him?"

There was a pause and the boy in his arms slowly stopped trembling, and instead was eerily still. Fushimi opened his mouth to ask him again but was once more cut off.

"Kumo's coming to kill Hae...poor Hae...Hae wonders what's going to stop Kumo this time...Kumo's going to kill Hae...Hae can't get away from Kumo now...it's too late...too late for Hae..."

Fushimi felt his blood run cold at the monotone voice that came from the ginger's lips. _Dammit, not again...so he really is after Miaski..._

"Hae? Hae do you know who I am?"

The boy tilted his head up to look at the bluenette and Fushimi couldn't stop his eyes from growing wide at the look in the other's. Vacant hazel eyes and an apathetic face, the boy's mind clearly somewhere else.

"Hae knows Tonbo...Hae recognizes Tonbo...Tonbo keeps Hae safe...will Tonbo keep Hae safe again?"

Fushimi gulped and felt the burning sensation behind his eyes grow worse, "Y-Yeah...Tonbo will keep Hae safe from Kumo..."

Hazel eyes closed and a breath of relief escape his throat, "Hae's happy...Hae feels safe with Tonbo..."

They sat like that for the next two hours, with Yata sound asleep against Fushimi's chest, while the latter cried into the other's hair quietly.

* * *

Hae= Fly

Tonbo= Dragonfly

Kumo= Spider

**REVEIW TO KEEP THE CHAPTERS GOING!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Warnings for this fic:** language, violence/gore, psychological themes, sensitive themes, drug and alcohol abuse, multiple personality disorder, you know-all the good stuff!

Also, I want to thank everyone for their lovely reviews! Thank you for supporting this fic and I'm so happy that you all enjoy it! I just hope that I continue this...I have other fics, school, and actually books I'm planning on publishing to worry about...I just started this on a whim...

* * *

Having Fushimi walk into Homra at all was strange in itself, having Fushimi walk in at two in the morning with an unconscious Yata in his arms was something different entirely. Izumo immediately froze mid pace from his position behind the bar and literally hopped over it in a fluid motion. Stalking up to the bluenette, red in the face, he went back into panicking mother mode. Izumo had sent half the gang on a search party for the ginger while he himself waited to see if Yata came back on his own.

"Where the hell have you been?! What the fuck did you do to him Fushimi?!"

The megane shot him a glare, "Shut up. I'm not here to deal with you or anyone else, it's just that Misaki's safest here."

"Safe from what? What the hell did he get into this time?!"

All the shouting woke up Anna who was napping on the couch. She, despite Izumo's protesting, had been adamant that she wait for Yata to come back. Poor girl wanted t make sure that her was "family" safe...she had already lost her most important person...

"Fushimi-kun?", she mumbled while rubbing her eyes sleepily. The blunette gave a rare smile, Anna was the only one besides Misaki that he liked, and went over to the couch and laid Yata gently down on the plush cushions. Anna scooted over for the vanguard and even went and draped him in her slightly-too-small red duvet.

"What happened to him, Fushimi?" Izumo's voice left no room for argument as he crossed his arms and tapped a shoe. Fushimi sighed and patted Anna on the head softly, "He's just sleeping. I'm staying here for the night, by the way."

The blonde's face hardened, "Who said you could-" "-Hey it's Yata! Look Bandou I found him!"

Fushimi clicked his tongue when he saw that the rest of Homra was coming in. The group, mostly Kamamoto and for some bizarre reason Chitose even worse, looked out of breath. Bandou scrunched up his face at the sight of the megane and Eric actually growled. The sound Eric made actually managed to wake up Yata, who had been sound asleep even as Fushimi carried him down the street.

"...Hae doesn't know where Hae is..."

Fushimi grimaced, _I should have thought this through a little more...why'd he have to wake up now?! _

"Oi, why is Yata talking like that?"

"Fushimi what did you do to him!?"

Said captain rubbed his temples and spared a glance back at his friend. Yata was looking around him with those empty eyes, clearly confused. Fushimi sighed, "Where do I start?..Um...alright, for starters...Misaki has multiple personality disorder..."

* * *

After promising to explain in the morning and that Misaki needed his sleep, Fushimi carried the boy up to Izumo's room and tucked him in despite the blonde's protest. "Someone's after him. Three people is safer than two"-was the only explanation he offered to the irate and confused bartender.

Everyone went to bed and only Izumo, who slept in his own bed by the window, and Fushimi, who sat with with back against the wall in a cot with Yata sleeping in his arms, were left awake.

"Alright Fushimi, enough with the crap...what the hell is going on?" They spoke in hushed tones to avoid waking the slumbering ginger. Fushimi sighed and continued to stroke the boy's hair absently with on hand while holding him protectively against his chest with the other.

"...Misaki and I grew up in an orphanage. Well, Misaki did-he had already been there for a few years when I arrived when I was eight. My parents died in a train wreck...Misaki's...Misaki's were murdered...Kumonosu was the name of the orphanage...It was a strange place, I noticed it the moment I got there...There were barely any windows in that eight story house...A spiral staircase in the center that only a few people ever used because all the orphans stayed on the first floor of the mansion...It was in the forest...far from any city or town...The walls were dark purple and floor was rotting wood...It was so dutsy and an old...it was like no one else lived there...There was no staff...only silver phonographs that were hung in the corners of the ceiling...a voice would come out of them to tell us what instructions...We made our own meals in the kitchens and did chores on our own...We were never allowed outside...the doors were locked and for some reason...everyone acted like it was normal...no one ever tried to escape...There were only children in that house...only children and Kumo..."

"Kumo?"

"Hai...that was the name we gave the voice that came out of the phonograph...a man that stayed on the eighth floor and never came out...he would deal out instructions and we would follow them obediently...He gave us a bedtime and we all followed it...we called him Kumo because of the "bedtime story" he would tell us everynight: The Spider and The Fly..."

"Why...why does Yata have multiple personality disorder?"

"...Trauma..."

"Trauma? From what?"

"Misaki was...the only one who ever went up that staircase...apparently he was there the longest-before any of the other children...every night Kumo would call Misaki up to his room after the poem...we only ever saw Misaki during the day..."

"..What...what did he do to him?"

"..."

"...Oh my God...you mean he-"

Fushimi took a deep breath and stilled his minstrations on the boy's head, "...Kumo-sama...did many things to Misaki...I don't know the details...but whatever your guessing...you're probably right...Hae is only one of the two other personalities within Misaki...Hae, as you've noticed, talks in the third person and is somewhat detactched from reality...it's Misaki's defense mechanism to deal with Kumo...I guess..."

"He called you "Tonbo" before...what was that about?"

"I don't know...Hae just does that...he refers to others by the names of insects...the insects that a spider eats...He also likes to follow me around and rarely does anything on his own...He likes following instructions and drawing things in order to express his emotions...He only talks to me...at least usually..."

"..."

"..."

"What's the other personality?"

"...One I hope I never have to see again..."

"..."

"When we both turned fourteen...on Misaki's birthday...Kumo let us leave..."

"He just...let you go, just like that?"

"Yeah...Misaki won't tell me what he did...but I'm sure he and Kumo made a deal..."

"A deal?"

"Hai, and whatever that deal was...I think Kumo's finally coming back to collect his payment..."

* * *

Hae= Fly

Tonbo= Dragonfly

Kumo= Spider

Kumonosu= Spider's Web

I just realized that this story reminds me a lot of my other story-A Game of Jacks, with the psycho orphangae and all...shit...what the fuck is wrong with me and torturing my poor characters?! 0.o


	3. Chapter 3

**Warnings for this fic:** language, violence/gore, psychological themes, sensitive themes, drug and alcohol abuse, multiple personality disorder, you know-all the good stuff!

Thanks to all those of you who reviewed and said this story was great! You're awesome! I couldn't get this motivated without you guys!

**Also, it has been brought to my attention that Fushimi is in fact NOT a captain...I knew he was third in command but I forgot what they call that...0.o...help?**

**Also, I changed the age that Fushimi and Yata left the orphanage from 10 to 14 for the simple reason that, even though I'm still writing this sick shit, 10 was just too young an age to write about the stuff I'm going to write...no I won't write smut...no matter how much you beg...**

* * *

Pale fingers, extra jointed and spindly, trace the length of the boy's spine with feather light touches. A deep, sickly sweet voice floated _too close_ to the poor child's ear.

"My sweet little Hae...shall I count the ways in which you amaze me?"

Dull hazel eyes continue to gaze at the expanse of purple satin sheets, never flickering or blinking. Gaunt face pressed sideways on the bed, dark circles under his dead eyes, lips swollen and bruises, body thin and bony-clearly underweight and underfed...the boy was barely twelve...

* * *

Misaki jolted from his nightmare with a strangled gasp, alerting the man who held him. Without a word Saruhiko pulled the frightened boy tighter to his chest, pressing his trembing body closer to him.

"Shhh, Misaki shhh...it's alright...it's going to be fine..."

He trembled violently and gripped at the blunette's sleeping shirt that the other had found in his old room. It was just growing light with the sun barely peaking over the horizon. Izumo had left just a few minutes earliar to start making breaking for everyone, while Saruhiko was determined to stay with the ginger until he woke up. He hadn't slept at all, having worried about Misaki's safety, however he had gone longer without sleep.

Saruhiko sat the both of them up and rested his back against the wall with Misaki in his lap. He ran his fingers carefully through orange-born locks while cooing softly to the scared teen.

"Misaki? Misaki tell me what happened...tell me what you saw yesterday..."

The blunette sighed when the boy shook his head against the other's chest, "Misaki I can't help you if you don't tell me..."

A pause.

"D-Do you remember last week? When we fought in the park?"

Saruhiko nodded at the memory of Misaki's fear filled eyes.

"Do you remember when I said that I didn't want to fight because I didn't have much time left?"

Another nod.

"...Do you remember that day six years ago on my birthday?"

The blunette winced, "Yes...I do..."

He felt Misaki shift against him and burrow his face deeper into the other's chest.

"...al...pi...ave...day..."

"Misaki I can't understand you if you talk into my shirt."

The ginger boy tipped his chin up so that his breath tickled the blunette's neck, making him shiver.

"I made a deal with Kumo...If he let us leave, left you alone forever, and gave me six years with you...I'd let him take me back on my twentieth birthday..."

...

The ticking of a clock on the other side of the room was the only sound in the otherwise silent room. A faucet dripped in the bathroom across the hall and the calendar on the wall that was open to July was just two red Xs away from the 20th.

Just two days left until Misaki's birthday...

* * *

That had been that morning, Saruhiko was currently sitting in the aftermath of his explanation of what was going on to the rest of Homra in the living room. He had requested that at least one person besides himself be with Misaki until...until whatever was going to happen.

Which it wouldn't, he would make sure of that.

Eric looked a little worse for wear, but that was expected considering he went through somewhat similar abuse, and was currently staring into space with Kosuke rubbing his shoulders worriedly. Chitose looked downright livid, Badou looked like he was on the verge of vomiting, Bando and Dewa kept asking Izumo questions, Shohei had started crying a little, and Kamamoto would be informed of everything later because he was outside distracting Anna with some fire crackers. Seri had been informed of the situation and was relaying the information to Munakata, in hopes that raising the alarm of Kumo's appearance would keep him at bay for a while.

Misaki, mostly because Saruhiko would rather die than leave him alone, was sitting on the couch in the corner listening to music with his classic white headset and drawing in a leather bound sketchbook. Saruhiko stole a glance at the boy and noticed that Anna's red duvet was still around him, and that he looked considerably thinner than he had that morning.

If that was even possible.

Hae had yet to resurface, and yet the ginger was acting distant and detached from reality. When Dewa rounded his questioning to the boy, he had merely looked up for a moment with a blank expression and unblinking hazel eyes, before going back to sketching. He wouldn't even respond to Saruhiko's offerings of specially bought turkish delight, something the boy loved with a passion.

Minutes turned to hours, no one really understanding what to do or how to do it. Saruhiko had moved to the couch and resorted to staring at Misaki, as if he could understand how to help just by looking. The ginger didn't seem to notice the tension, however, and continued to doodle in his book. Ever now and then he would scrunch up his nose rather cutely and reach for the eraser he had next to him ready for use. Saruhiko knew better than to try and peek at whatever the boy was drawing, he had made the mistake before and received a black eye for it. The blunette learned his lesson rather quickly after that.

As day turned to night, the bar not really having gone anywhere save for Dewa and Bando who seemed incredibly motivated to scout out for Kumo, not that Saruhiko really thought they could find him before the day ended, Saruhiko bit his lip, they had one day. They had one day before Kumo would supposedly take away Misaki from him forever. He had never seen the man in person, only heard his voice, but he was sure he wasn't someone pleasant to look at. Misaki never talked about his appearance, or anything regarding what happened upstairs for that matter. Only the bruises and scars on the ginger's body gave him clues as to what went on in that bedroom.

Saruhiko felt someone watching him and looked up to see dull hazel eyes looking at him from the opposite side of the couch. The boy's beloved sketchbook had been set down and his headphones lay discarded at his side. Misaki had drawn the blanket closer around his body and buried his face in it so that only his eyes stuck out.

"What's wrong, Misaki?"

No response.

While Saruhiko would usually see this as the most adorable thing he had seen Misaki do so far, the circumstances left him no room for amusement. Instead of finding the act cute, he found it oddly disturbing. Misaki's eyes lacked their usual shine, and his face looked thinner than it had just hours before. It was as it the boy was wilting, just like the flora he was named after.

"Misaki...please...talk...say anything...please Misaki...I'm begging you...this isn't like you..."

The rest of Homra was either scouting the city, reading a bedtime story to Anna in the case of Kamamoto (you know he would), or standing guard somewhere in the building. Saruhiko and Misaki were the only ones in the living room, Izumo had recently left to go to the bathroom in the room next door.

"What do you think happens to us when we die?"

Saruhiko froze at Misaki's voice, so void of emotion and lacking it's usually fiery spit. It sounded dull...defeated...

The blunette gave a weak smile and chuckled nervously, "Well...I'd hope that we go to heaven if we've been good...I guess...but it's all depending on what you believe..."

"What happens to insects when they die?"

The bar grew quiet, and Saruhiko could swear he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his chest.

"Um...since they...since they supposedly are God's creatures...they'd go to heaven too...?"

Misaki paused and let the covers fall away from his skinny frame, instead pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in his legs.

"Even the spiders?"

* * *

Hae= Fly

Tonbo= Dragonfly

Kumo= Spider

Kumonosu= Spider's Web


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you for all your support! I just realized that I haven't been doing disclaimers so far so here it goes!**

**Disclaimer: I don't K or any of it's characters! All rights belong to GoHands and GoRa!**

* * *

The trek up those creaking, dusty, wooden stairs was always the same. His bare feet would always slip along the purple silk that was draped down the steps in an attempt to make them look fancy. When he fell he would just add bruises to his already purple knees. Instead of ascending from the light into the dark, he squinted his eyes against the uncomfortable brightness of the candles that were sparsely hung on the walls around the staircase. He would never get over the jolt of being thrust into the light after spending a day downstairs in those rooms filled with inky blackness.

He knew what awaited him when he reached the top floor: a row of lock doors with the final door at the end wide open and pouring purple and gold light.

He knew the feeling that would creep up on him when he would walk down that hallway, that feeling of dread and anxiety.

He knew that the voice that would greet him before he even reached the door would be sickly sweet and dripping with sugar-coated pleasantries.

He knew the patterns that those fingers, so long and bony, would trace over his skin-leaving burning trails.

And he knew that the night was far from over.

* * *

A day.

Saruhiko had one day before Misaki would be ripped away from him forever.

Today was July 19th, the day before Misaki's birthday, but instead of being excited for the ginger's party, a gloom had settled upon Homra. Scepter 4 had gone on alert, and the Homra members would occasionally scout the city, but most of the time the group stayed in the living room in silence. The grandfather clock that sat by the stairs ticked away ominously as Homra sat silently amongst the furniture. Misaki had yet to move from his little corner of the couch, he'd even slept there during the night, and Saruhiko refused to leave his side.

Anna's marbles moved erratically around the coffee table while she sat squeezed between Misaki and Saruhiko. The blunette wanted nothing more than to push her aside so he could get as close to the sketching boy as possible, but he had enough sense to leave her be. He wasn't going to ask what she was thinking about or what she was doing with those marbles. He really wasn't sure what they did half the time anyway. Apparently they were made from her own blood, which was creepy as hell to him, and somehow were a link to why she could only see the color red. She was also able to read people's minds by looking through them, and detect where people are located. However, despite how hard the poor girl was currently trying (unknown to everyone else) she couldn't pinpoint Kumo's location.

It was like he was everywhere...and nowhere at the same time...

Misaki would occasionally shift in his crouching position-to which everyone in the bar would whip their heads towards him with an anxious sort of panic-before going back to sketching whatever the hell it was he was drawing. Misaki had switched from a soft lead pencil to a black artist's pen from the kit that Saruhiko had given to him on his eighteenth birthday. It was a hobby that the boy kept hidden from the rest of Homra, only Saruhiko knew about his love for drawing. However, he had yet to show the other a single artwork, so Saruhiko didn't know whether Misaki was drawing manga or something more realistic.

The music coming from the white headset was muffled against the others ears. Whatever it was that Misaki was listening to was loud. Saruhiko suspected that it was either a book on tape with screaming bits, or some rock ballads. He really didn't see Misaki as someone who would like rock, but then again no one suspected that he himself enjoyed country or that he had several hidden CDs of Billy Ray in his room under his bed.

Saruhiko wondered, as he had been for the past few hours, what Misaki was thinking right then. He knew the other was scared, a blind deaf idiot could tell that, but what was going through his head? Was he worried? Obviously- the boy kept looking at the grandfather clock every now and then as if time would suddenly skip ahead eight hours to midnight. Did he regret signing a deal with Kumo? Surely Misaki didn't want to die or go with Kumo in general...but what if he hadn't made that deal? Would they still be in the orphanage? Why did Misaki wait until they were fourteen to make a bargain? What happened that made him take that risk? And why did Kumo let them leave in the first place?

Saruhiko glanced over at the mantle near the couch. Totsuka's camera, along with a long line of photos, sat prostrate on the wood shelf. The blunette unwillingly thought about what the Red King would have done given the situation. He scoffed, _knowing him he would have burned the whole neighborhood looking for Kumo_...He paused..._but he wouldn't stop looking until Misaki was safe...that's just the kind of bastard he was...I hate to admit it...__and Totsuka would just say everything would get better and to not "sweat it"...but I don't think this is going to get better...just get worse... _

He stole a look at Kosuke, in his normal position beside Eric, however, the man looked bitter. He was gently stroking Eric's hair as the boy slept soundly with his head in the other's lap. Eric held his pocket knife closely to his chest and Saruhiko saw the glimpse of a matching one in Kosuke's pant pocket. Shohei, the cheery one who didn't like being pessimistic, had a hand gun in his lap that he was polishing. Saruhiko raised a brow at the weapon and looked over at Bando, who had a collection of switchblades on the counter of the bar. Kamamoto had a pipe in his lap, Chitose had a shotgun swung over his shoulder, and Izumo had a tazer on the bar counter next to Bando's knives. Saruhiko's own throwing knives felt like heavy weights in his pockets.

_Maybe...maybe we'll be able to keep Kumo away after all... _

...Oh how very wrong he was, indeed...

* * *

Izumo opened his eyes blearily with a yawn. He blinked a few times,_ I don't remember falling asleep...let alone on the floor_...He sat between the wall and the bar-the cramped space making him feel slighly claustrophobic. He picked himself up gingerly and winced as his cramping muscles protested in agony. When he peered over the countertop...he severley wished he hadn't.

The living room was trashed.

Picture frames were on the floor and coffee tables were over turned. The grandfather clock in the corner had all its glass shattered, and was drenched in a disturbing amount of blood. A thick red puddle of the stuff collected around it's base and was smeared around the walls surrounding it. Bloody fingerprints, as if someone had dragged their nails down the walls desperately, covered the nearby wallpaper. The Homra members gathered around the clock, and Izumo caught sight of Fushimi, kneeling in the pool of blood...clutching Yata's blue hat in his hands as he sobbed heavily...

* * *

Review and tell me how you like it so far!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Really? I haven't done this yet? Okay, well, I don't own K Project or any of it's anything...all rights belong to GoRa and GoHands...yeah...

**Warnings**: violence, language, suggestive themes, sensitive material, other stuff...

* * *

"Miyako...Heather...Marta...Kisara...Mei...Ai...Ryo...Hidori...Wanta...Sora...and Saruhiko...yes...they all did their chores like I instructed...such good little children they are..."

"Please...don't..."

"Don't what? What is it that you don't want me doing, my little Fly?"

"Don't do that..."

"Hm?"

"...Don't include his name in that list...he doesn't belong there..."

"Who is "he"? Miyako? Ryo? Hidori? Wanta? Sora? Saruhiko?"

"Saru...he doesn't deserve to be on that last...he doesn't deserve to be here..."

"Oh? And the others do?"

"..."

"How cruel of you, my little Fly...why favor Saruhiko over the others? What is it about Saruhiko that the others don't have, hm? What is it that makes you drawn to him, so much so that you call him your "best friend"?"

"He's not...like us..."

"Explain, my little Fly."

"He's not...crazy...like us..."

"Crazy? Oh, my dear little Fly, you aren't crazy-just different!"

"...No...I'm crazy..."

"Why would you say that? Just because you have a few extra voices in your head doesn't mean you're crazy!"

"...I'm crazy...Saruhiko has a chance..."

"A chance at what, my little Fly?"

"...A chance to...have...a future..."

* * *

It was obvious that Fushimi blamed himself for everything.

The poor boy sat the on the couch with his best friend's blood soaked beanie clutched tightly to his chest. Fushimi's face was streak with tears but his expression was relatively blank as he looked off into space. Izumo noted that the boy, and that's exactly what he was, seemed lost. Apparently, no one knew what happened-according to the others that woke up before him, they didn't know when or why they ever fell asleep.

Fushimi sniffed and squeezed the hat tighter, "Probably Kumo's doing, he put a spell on us..."

Kosuke shot the boy a look, "A spell? What is he, a wizard?"

Fushimi shrugged and glanced away, "Your guess is as good as mine..."

Izumo sighed and rubbed his temples, "I just got off the phone with Seri...Scepter 4 will be here in about half an hour. We'll just have to wait until then..."

Eric, silent the entire time, pointed to Yata's discarded notebook, "We should check his sketchbook...maybe it has clues to where Kumo took him..."

Kosuke frowned and turned to Fushimi who was now looking down at the notebook next to him warily.

"He'd take him back to the orphanage, right? Don't you know where it is?"

Fushimi shook his head, "Only Misaki knows...when we left...he drugged me..."

Izumo raised a brow, "Why would he do that?"

The blunette shrugged, "Why would Misaki wait till the very end to tell me about his deal with Kumo? Misaki's hid his whole life from me...truth is...I only know a potion of him..."

He reached out tentatively and stroked the sketchbook's worn cover.

"But I wouldn't put it past him to leave clues in his drawings...Misaki isn't as stupid as he leads everyone to believe..."

* * *

When Fushimi pulled the sketchbook onto his lap over Yata's hat, the whole group swarmed around him, perching and leaning on the couch and drawing up chairs so they could see. Fushimi glared at the close contact but took a deep breath and opened the book. Fushimi noticed that the brown bindings were worn and the cover was obviously old. When he opened to the first page, however, he saw to his surprise that the pages were a crisp white- a fresh, newly bought piece of paper. He ran his fingers on the inside of the cover and realized that it was a new bright blue sketchbook, just with the old cover slipped over it.

"It's...Misaki drew all these yesterday...he just bought this sketchbook...these are Misaki's final thoughts..."

As much as he hated talking like Misaki was dead...he knew deep down that you couldn't lose as much blood as he had without any repercussions.

He knew that the chance that Misaki was still alive was slime.

Nevermind how much he wished it weren't true.

When he looked at the first page, he felt his blood run cold. It was writing, Misaki had written in pen and in neat, small handwriting-something that no one but Fushimi knew he could do. Even though everyone supposed that Misaki's handwriting was sloppy and wild, in reality it was just as neat as Fushimi's.

Which was saying a lot.

_If you're reading this, then I'm probably already gone. I'm not going to lie, I'm scared...actually, terrified would be a better word. I don't regret it, though...making that deal with Kumo was the right thing to do. It was the only thing I could do, to save Saru. _

_Saru, if you're the one reading this, which I hope you are, I'm so very sorry. I wish I had just sucked it up and stopped arguing with you over the Homra thing as soon as it started, so that I could've spent more time with you, like I wanted to from the beginning. Also, stop blaming yourself, because I know you and I know that's what you're doing. It's not your fault it isn't anyone's fault. So stop blaming yourself for something you had no control over._

_I knew what I was getting myself into when I made that deal, and I still know what's waiting for me. I'm not going to be all self pitying and beg for my life, because I accepted my fate a long time ago. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. I don't have a chance to escape, I appreciate what you're all doing but it won't stop him...nothing can..._

_I just wanted to say thank you for all that you guys have done for me, for giving me a home. I couldn't have asked for better friends. Hey, Saru...if you're reading this...please don't look for me...I mean, you can look all you want-I can't really stop that...but please don't come for me...don't make my sacrifice, all that I've done for you...don't make all of that in vain...please Saru...that's all I ask..._

_Misaki Yata_

_P.S. I hope you can get something out of these pictures...at least the last one..._

Fushimi felt as if he had been hit with a ton of bricks. Before anyone could say anything, he hurriedly flipped to the first drawing, and sucked in a breath.

It was a full sketch, taking up the whole page, done in dark blue and black ink. It was a gothic design...and reminded Fushimi of something from a Tim Burtin movie...

It looked, at first, like just a giant circle, but then Fushimi realized it was from the perspective of someone looking down into a hole.

Down into a well.

The well was deep, rimmed at the top with worn cobble stone. The details were ridiculously accurate. _Misaki could have made good money selling his drawings if they were all this good._

Fushimi's eyes widened when he saw that he could see into the bottom, a white spotlight from above the picture's perspective (a flashlight, maybe?) shone into the bottom.

To reveal a little girl.

She was around five and drawn with a bigger head than her body, like some kind of doll. She wore a tattered dress with little (supposedly) white shoes. She had black pigtails and was looking upward. Her face reminded Fushimi of what his fellow Scepter 4 members called "emo face". With enormous white circles rimmed in black for eyes, lacking a mouth, and with two shaded ovals for blush, she looked like a demented puppet. In her stubbed, formless arms, she held a voodoo doll with black buttons for eyes and a stitched mouth. It was in the shape of a white teddy bear. The little girl held the stuffed bear so tight to her chest that the black stuffing was popping out of its seems.

He quickly turned to the following page, a page skipped in between in stop the ink from bleeding into the next drawing.

This time it was of a lamp.

Just a lamp.

It was an old fashioned lamp with the base being grooved like an unpsidedown mushroom. The lampshade was a lighter shade, in the shape of an unmbrella, with black lines running down and across it.

To resemble a spider web.

Next page, turned slightly faster.

Fushimi froze and slumped back into the chair with a dazed, sad look on his face.

"Oh Misaki...why?"

It was of a spiral staircase, done (like the rest) in blue and black ink. A small boy stood at the bottom, looking up. The boy was done in the same style as the girl, with big white eyes and lacking a mouth. The boy wore a simple white long sleeve shirt and matching pants with no shoes. Unruly dark hair framed the large face, and tiny wings sprouted from the boy's back.

Fly wings.

The staircase was rotten wood and drapped with a kind of cloth like down an aisle. Candles sat at random intervals as it made its winding way up eight floors.

At the very top of the page, surrounded by a pillar of light that shone down from somewhere above and created a shaft of light that illuminated all the way down to the small boy like a spotlight, was another boy.

But this one was hanging from a noose.

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Review!

Hey, I know this is really random and kinda too soon to ask...

**But does anyone want to do fanart?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Warnings:** language, sensitive themes, violence, suggestive and sexual themes...

**Note:** I am not a smut writer, nor will I ever be-Also, check the summary again cuz i changed it slightly

_**Also, I know I promised that this chapter would reveal what happened to Misaki, but I found out that I reached my word goal (over 1,700) and that it would be best if I showed what happened in the next chapter. Sorry people, but don't worry-I'm sure (as long as I get plenty of awesome reviews :D) that you won't have to wait long!**_

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"What the fuck?! Why would he draw something so sick?!"

"Is that a-oh my God!"

"Shut up Chitose!"

Fushimi ignored their bickering and turned the page from the hanging boy to the next drawing: a close up of a corner of a windowsill. Dark rain pelted the glass and the sill itself was rotting wood. A small spider was crawling along the sill, towards a fly on the window pane. A sickening feeling spawned in Fushimi's throat and a shiver went down his spine.

The next page had only a single small sketch in the middle of the paper, done in black and blue pen like all the rest, of the same boy with the wings in the picture with the staircase. He was sitting, slumped against nothing but air, in the same position as a dropped doll. His head was tilted to the side, with those white circles for eyes staring at Fushimi. He shivered. The chibi thing was so demented...so lonely looking. Fushimi gulped when he saw that in this drawing, the fly-boy's shirt had a hollow hole in it in the shape of a heart. There were cords wrapped around it's neck-acting as a loose noose-connected to a pair of familiar white headphones beside him. The boy's insect wings were broken, torn at the tips and holes in the middle.

_ Is this...is this supposed to be of Misaki...? _

He turned to the next page and gave a ghost of a smile. By far the happiest doodle in the book, it was a little chibi version of a monkey holding a flower. It didn't take a genius (which he was, by the way) to figure out it was supposed to represent himself and Misaki.

But it wasn't a happy drawing...the flower was wilting-practically _melting_ in the monkey's outstretched hand. The monkey, now that Fushimi was squinting to see better, actually had its eyes sewn shut. The monkey lacked a mouth but by its features he could tell that it was sad.

The next page was a full scale, extremely realistic sketch of a lion's head. Its mane was full and its mouth was open wide in a yawn. It's ear was pierced and glinted in an unseen light. It was obvious that it was supposed to be Mikoto Suoh, the late Red King. Fushimi felt that familiar cold feeling crawl around his gut and he scowled. He despised that man for taking away his precious Misaki's attention from him. That was the reason he left Homra, because Misaki had stopped paying any attention to him.

The boy was too wrapped up in his "beloved Mikoto-san". Fushimi thought that maybe if he joined Scepter 4, Homra's greatest rival, then maybe he would have Misaki's attention. Even if Misaki hated him, despised him and believed him a traitor, at least he would be looking at him. As long as Misaki recognized his existence, then Fushimi didn't care if the latter was throwing hate and swear words at him. As long as Misaki looked at him, Fushimi was content.

He shook his head and turned the page, not expecting the image he would find.

A disemboweled lion, the same one from the page before. It lay on its side, tongue lolling out of it's mouth and onto the snow it lay on. If it was supposed to represent Mikoto and his death, wouldn't it make more sense to have it be stabbed? But no, this lion had it's guts torn out from a huge wound in it's abdomen. Blood stained the snow around it and Fushimi couldn't help but wince at the graphic gore on the page.

Why would Misaki draw this? What does it mean?

The next page, the ninth and final sketch, however, was the drawing that caught him off guard the most. When he looked at the picture he prayed that he was imagining it. There was no way that his Misaki would draw something so...so...

So utterly and absolutely nostalgic.

It was in landscape format, and Fushimi had to turn the sketchbook to see it properly. A full sketch, with ridiculously accurate details, of everyone they knew. Mikoto smirked lazily in the middle with Totsuka at his side smiling widely with his camcorder. Izumo stood next to Mikoto, with an arm slung around a slightly blushing Seri's shoulder. Seri stood next to Munakata, who had all of Scepter 4 behind him. To the side of Totsuka was the rest of Homra: Eric, Kosuke, Souhei, Bando, Dewa, Chitose, Kamamoto and Anna. Even Kuroh Yatogami, the Silver King, and that Neko girl stood off in a corner. Why Misaki would in include them he would never know. Fushimi himself stood next to Munakata, clad in Scepter 4 attire.

Fushimi noticed that Misaki was absent from the drawing.

Neat handwriting at the bottom of the page caught his eye.

_This Is My New Family_

_Thank You For All That You've Done _

He flipped the blank pages all the way to the end and gasped. He felt a lump form in his throat and Fushimi sucked in a breath when he saw the black and white polaroid photo taped to the inside back cover.

With shaking fingers her gingerly peeled off the four pieces of tape and pulled away the photo. He closed the sketchbook, ignoring questions from the others around him that he had forgotten about.

He blinked away tears as he examined the photo, worn at the edges but perfectly clear.

"Fushimi? Fushimi what's wrong?"

"...I didn't think he would keep it..."

"What is it?"

"It's...the photo of all us at the orphanage...I thought Misaki threw it away...I guess I was wrong..."

Izumo peered over Eric's shoulder to get a better look. Twelve children stood in front of a faded wall, all dressed in clothes that had long gone out of fashion. He recognized a little Fushimi-hair and face exactly the same, just missing his glasses. He was smiling faintly, although it looked strained. He sat in the very center of the photo, kneeling on the ground with a little girl and boy. The girl looked of chinese decent and had her raven hair tied back in twin tails. She wore a white sundress and looked around five years old. The teddy bear she held tightly in her arms as she beamed at the camera was disturbingly familiar. A boy, around the girl's age, with short dark hair and wearing a black shirt and gray overalls stood next to her grinning just as innocently. The two of them sat to either side of Fushimi.

Behind them, standing directly above Fushimi were a pair of identical twin boys. They looked to be slightly younger than Fushimi, and both had messy mops of light brown hair and wore matching short sleeve dark shirts and pants. They both were leaning on each other and had their arms linked at the elbow. To the right of the boys stood a girl with long blonde hair that reached her mid back and wore a faded plaid dress and white stockings with penny loafers. Next to her was a curly brown haired girl with her hair tied back in a loose pony tail with two wavy locks hanging on either side of her dirt smeared face; she wore a flower print sun dress.

Next to her was another girl, this one with chopped japanese-style black hair wearing a brown dress that reached her ankles. To the left of the twin boys was a boy with spiky black hair who wore a dirty white long sleeve shirt and dark pants. Next to him was a girl with long black hair and a black tank top and loose pants rolled to her scraped knees. In the very corner, next to her, stood a boy with hair identical to Mikoto's-probably red as well (although it just looked light gray in the faded black and white photo) wearing a long sleeve dress shirt with a corduroy vest and pants.

Finally, sitting in Fushimi's arms, was Yata. Izumo barely recognized the boy, so thin...and dirty..and dead...

His hair was slightly longer than it was now, it was still messy as ever-just more unruly than usual. A white long sleeve shirt hung loosely on his almost skeletal frame, hanging off one bony shoulder to reveal the purpling skin beneath. His white pants hung low on his hips and his bare feet were raw and scarred on the bottom. He had dark circles under his eyes-eyes that were dull and void of spark. His skin was smeared with dirt and scrapes, pale scars visible on bruised skin. His lips were chapped and fell into an apathetic frown.

He seemed to unconsciously curl into the other boy's arms, as if trying to disappear and hide from the camera. He was in a different state than the other children-they weren't nearly as filthy and thin as he was. Sure, they had some scrapes and were slightly dusted in dirt-but none of them sported the bruises and clear malnourishment that he did. None of them had the dark bag under their eyes, and none of them were bare foot.

Izumo noticed that none of the children, save for the two kids on either side of Fushimi and Fushimi himself, were smiling; he also noticed that every one of their eyes held a sort of dead look to them-as if their hope had long been snuffed.

A sniff caught the blonde's attention and he could do nothing to help as Fushimi began to silently cry as he clutched the photo to his chest.

He had not missed the inscription at the base of the photograph, written in black sharpie.

_This Is My Old Family_

_Fuck You For All That You've Done _

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**Read and Review** please!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Shut up

Warning: Same

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When Scepter 4 arrived at Homra, they were met with a disturbed silence. Anna, the poor girl had been kept out of the place since the accident happened, was said to be upstairs playing with Eric, who was unable to stand the sight of blood any longer, along with Kamamoto who kept an eye on the pair. Izumo went up to Munakata with a grave face and nodded at Seri. It was then that he noticed that only they had come, not the rest of the Blue Clan. Them, and the bizarre girl that hung around the Silver King and could turn into a cat.

"What...What is she doing here?"

"She deals with memories, remember? She said she could help."

"How?"

"Don't know, ask her yourself."

The strange girl, Neko if he recalled correctly, was staring at the drying blood with an odd look on her face, "There's...there's so much blood..." Izumo winced and put a hand on her shoulder gently, frowning when she flinched. "Whatever you can do to help will be appreciated, but you don't have to put yourself through this if you don't want to."

Neko shook her head and put on a brave face, which in reality just looked adorable, "No! Neko can do it! Shiro's counting on Neko to help!"

Izumo furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "Shiro?"

"Yes, I go by Shiro as well as my real name...at least with her..."

The small bell indicating someone had opened the front door chimed and the blonde looked up in surprise to see the Silver King, Adolf K. Wiseman, and the Black Dog, Kuroh Yatogami, walking in. The Silver King was in his original body, height dwarfing the young man beside him. The silverette smiled softly, "Guten Morgen, sorry for keeping you all waiting, Neko slept in late."

The remnants of the Red Clan, strewn around the living room, held no hatred towards the Silver King and his clansmen, but that didn't mean it was any less awkward. Seri smiled apologetically at Izumo and gently pulled him aside.

"I am so sorry about Yata...but I thought that maybe she could help show us what happened...so that we can get him back..."

Izumo sighed and lit a cigarrette, ignoring his own rules of no smoking inside the bar, "Me too, Seri...but Fushimi is taking it the worse, you know? He obviously knows more about what's going on than he's telling us...but God I hope Yata's alright...you should have seen him Seri...he looked so terrified..."

Seri cast a glance over at the bloodied clock, and then at the couch where Fushimi sat. The rest of Homra stayed clear of the crime scene, instead sitting in the bar stools with grave looks on their faces, but Fushimi was adament on being left alone and sat on the blood stained couch by himself. Seri had never seen Scepter 4's third in command look so broken. The blunette leaned on the armrest with Yata's hat and sketchbook open in his lap while he listened to the boy's headphones. He wasn't looking at the drawings, however, but instead was looking at a weathered photo with pained eyes.

"What's he looking at?"

"It's a photo of the kids in the orphanage that he and Yata lived in as kids."

"Oh, the one you told me about on the phone? The one that 'Kumo' ran?"

"Yeah, that one. Apparently he abused Yata-if his appearance the photo is anything to go by. I can't believe it, Yata and Fushimi have a whole different past than what we thought...I never imagined that they had such horrible childhoods..."

Seri knew she wasn't the most motherly woman, neither the warmest, but she couldn't help but feel pity for Fushimi. While Izumo went back to the Blue King to explain everything, she went over slowly to the grieving blunette. She tentatively reached a hand out and placed it comfortingly on his shoulder, wincing when he jumped in surprise.

"...Fushimi? Fushimi I'm so sorry...we'll get him back, I promise..."

The blunette gave a strained smile and removed the headphones, "He was listening to a thunderstorm..."

"Excuse me?"

"Misaki was listening to the sound of a thunderstorm: rain, wind, and thunder...it's so like him...he always loved storms...he always love the rain..."

"Fushimi..."

He handed her the photo and shifted so that she could sit beside him.

"This is-"

"That's me and Misaki...and that's Mei," he pointed to the little girl with the doll, "and that's Sora," the little boy with the overalls, "the twins are Hidori and Wanta- the girl with blonde hair and stockings is Kisara, the girl with curly brown hair in the flower print dress is Heather, the girl with the chopped hair in the long brown dress is Ai, the tomboy with her pants rolled up is Miyako, the boy with the spiky hair is actually a girl-her name is Marta, and the one on the far left- the one who looks like the Red King- is Ryo..."

Seri blinked, "He really does look like Suoh..."

"He had brown hair, though, but yeah...they look identical...although he looks like the Red King did recently-I heard had a different hair style when he was younger. Ryo's like a mini adult Mikoto Suoh." Fushimi cracked a smirk, but then that faded and he cast his eyes to the sketchbook.

Seri cocked a brow, "Can I see the drawings?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, sure..."

She flipped to the beginning, to the little girl in the well, and pointed, "So this is Mei, right?"

"That's right..."

"Is this just a drawing, or did it really happen?"

"..."

"Fushimi?"

"Just turn the page."

Seri frowned but did as she was told.

"A lamp?"

"Yeah, I don't know what that's from..."

She turned the page again and sucked in a breath, "That's..."

"The boy on the bottom, the one with the wings, is probably Misaki...and the one hanging...is Shinji..."

"Shinji? He wasn't in the photo..."

"He was the twelfth orphan before I was sent there...he's the twin of Miyako and hung himself shortly before I arrived..."

There was a wierd look in the blunette's eyes and he bit his lip, "If Misaki drew this...then he still thinks it's his fault..."

"What? Why would he think-"

"Alright Awashima, Fushimi, we're going to start so lets back up and give her room."

Fushimi blinked when the cat girl stood in front of him pouting with her hands on her hips, "Up! Up please up!"

"Tch. Alright, hold on."

Fushimi went to pick up Misaki's belongings but the girl slapped his hands away.

"No! Bad! I need those!"

"...Okay?"

Neko gathered the hat, sketchbook, photo, and headphones-and put them on a pillow in front of the clock. She looked at the photo and sketchbook again and shook her head, handing them back to Fushimi.

"Not now."

"..."

Disregarding the girl's...strangeness...Homra, Scepter 4, and the Silver Clan went over and stood behind the bar. It was rather cramped and everyone agreed that the position was incredibly awkward, but they forced themselves to bare with it.

"Ah-I'm not strong enough to show the memory to everyone...just two of you please."

It was a unanimous decision that Fushimi go foward and Izumo insisted he join as well.

Neko made them stand in front of the clock, Izumo flinching at the overwhelming stench of blood and crunch of glass beneathe his shoes.

"All right! Let's go!"

She snapped her fingers and everything went white.

* * *

_Tick, tock_

_Tick, tock_

Izumo blinked, he was standing in the living room in front of the clock with Fushimi. He glanced behind him at the time: thirty seconds to midnight.

The room was quiet, save for the ticking of the clock and the everyone's even breathing.

Because everyone was asleep.

Izumo didn't remember falling asleep-none of them did, and yet there was everyone sprawled on the furniture and bar counter fast asleep.

Misaki was sitting on the couch with Anna between him and Fushimi. Misaki slept, curled into a ball snuggled in the red duvet, head resting on the armrest. That Fushimi remembered, Misaki had fallen asleep around eleven, too tired to stay awake.

Twenty seconds remaining.

_Misaki looks so peaceful_, Fushimi thought with a small smile. The boy seemed so fragile, so small in such a large world.

Ten seconds left.

Izumo held his breath and looked around the room wildly, _where's that bastard going to come from? We checked but there was no signs of forced entry! Not even footprints in the blood! It's like the fucker wasn't even here!_

Five seconds left.

Fushimi walked over to the bar, far away from the couch, and Izumo followed curiously.

"I want to watch, not interfere."

Izumo could tell that Fushimi was angry, though, by the way he spoke through his teeth and clenched his fists till his knuckles turned white.

Three

Two

One

"Happy Birthday, my little fly."

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Yeah I know, I'm a dick, but I'm gonna update the next chapter soon so don't worry


	8. Chapter 8

**Warnings:** Language, violence, sexual stuff (not too graphic), disturbing things

* * *

"Happy Birthday, my little fly."

Misaki jerked his head up at the voice and froze when he found that he was staring down the barrel of a gun. "Your friend over there should keep a better grip on his weapon...you never know when you'll need it..." Misaki looked around wildly at the people passed out in various locations, all fast asleep and unharmed. "Don't worry, my little fly~I didn't hurt your precious friends-just put them under a little sleeping spell. They'll be fine..."

The voice that haunted his nightmares, both when he was asleep and awake, was mocking him. He glanced from the hand gun up to the face of his assailant and felt his heart skip a beat in fear. Radioactive green eyes peered out from beneath the shadow of the black hood that almost glowed when he spoke. He wore a hooded cloak of all black, long sleeves of matching color extended to pale wrists. His fingers had extra joints, mimicking a demon's hands. His nails were painted black-either that or they were naturally like that. The man was over six feet tall-easily dwarfing Misaki's shorter stature.

"Why aren't you talking to me? Oh-I'm sorry! Did the gun scare you? Don't worry I won't shoot you..." Suddenly Misaki found the weapon dropped into his open hands and without a second thought he turned it on the man. His hands shook as he held the gun up to the other's head, unable to pull the trigger but unable to put it down.

"Oh come now...are you really going to kill me?"

Misaki breath hitched when a familiar voice floated from under the hood. He fingers trembled on the weapon, slowly lowering it when the man threw back his hood, revealing his face.

"That's just cruel..."

"Cruel? What's wrong? Can't you shoot your best friend?"

Misaki dropped the gun on the floor and hung his head, "Don't...don't wear his face...please change it back...this is wrong..."

The Saruhiko look-alike grinned, warping the megane's features, "Very well". There was a bright green flash of light and the man's face changed to his real one. Neon green eyes in a pale face, dark purple hair that hung limply to his shoulders and spiked out in odd directions, and a twisted physics-defying grin.

"Better, my little fly?"

"Hello...Albion..."

The man's grin widened, "So you do remember my name...how long has it been since we've spoken properly like this?"

"...Six years..."

"Ah~yes...six years...I see Saruhiko is doing well."

Misaki jerked his head up at the blunette's name and stood up violently in terror, "Don't touch him!" Albion's hand stopped mid stretch just inches away from the boy's sleeping face. Saruhiko lay with head tipped back on the couch, blissfully unaware of the horror so close to him. The man smirked and turned back to Misaki, "Why not?"

Misaki clutched at his chest, as if trying to stop the erratic pounding of his heart, "We made a deal, remember?" His eyes were wide and pleading, his voice desperate and meek. Before he could react, he was suddenly thrown back into the clock with enough force to shatter the glass and wood beneath it. He ignored the blood that seeped down the back of his shirt and tried to stop his vision from swimming. Thin but impossibly strong hands wrapped around his throat and _squeezed_. Misaki let out a gurgled gasp and scrabbled desperately a the hands that choked him.

Albion cocked his head, "Yes...but you broke that deal." Misaki managed to find footing on the base of the clock and managed to choke out a rasped, "W-What?"

"Yes...you broke our deal...or did you forget your sin?" The hands left his throat, but Misaki was only able to couch once before something imbedded into the wall next to his head with a loud swish. He shakily turned his face towards the axe blade and his mouth worked soundless, eyes blown wide as if he'd seen a ghost. The axe was made of rusted metal attached to rotting wood, splinters and nails protruded from the uneven surface. The blade, speckled and tinged brown with age, was stained with an unmistakable rouge.

_Dried blood_.

"T-That's...w-where did you get that?" Misaki continued to stare at the blade in horror. Albion smirked, "By the body. You know, you should bury a corpse-even if you don't like them." His cruel smile grew when he noticed the tears that were gathering in the younger's eyes. " But you _did_ like him, didn't you? There shouldn't have been any reason you had to go and kill him...unless there's something I don't know...which i highly doubt since i know everything that happens in my house...even if it _did_ happened outside...i wonder why he was out there in the first place? He knew the rules...Perhaps you told him you were leaving and he got jealous? Was that it? _Hm_?"

Misaki was still staring at the axe in pallid fear, his tears flowed unrestrained down his face.

"Ah~guess I shouldn't expect a reaction from you...considering the way you deal with traumatic things...I shouldn't expect much from you at all..."

He chuckled when he stepped back and Misaki slipped down the jagged clock face, slumping to the ground, eyes still glued on the axe above him. Albion shook his head in amusement and looked around the room.

"It seems you've made a lot of friends~You know I kept my word...I haven't checked on you once...I only started watching you last month! Aren't I so nice~?"

"..."

"Well, well~What do we have here?"

Albion made his way over to the shelf by the couch with all the picture frames and Totsuka's camera. A ghost of a smile lit up his eyes when he found a picture of Suoh Mikoto.

"Now I get it! This is why you joined this group of thugs~ Uncanny how similar the two of them are...maybe they're long-lost brothers? What do you think?"

"..."

"Nevermind-Ooh~What do we have here?!" Albion stalked back to the couch with a predatory glint in radioactive green eyes. Just as his hands, so long and sinister, reached out towards the sleeping Anna, Misaki let loose an animalistic howl of rage and tackled the man to the ground. The boy's eyes were blow wide and his mouth was twisted in a sort of crazed grin. Misaki's hands tightened around the pale alabaster of Albion's throat.

Albion let out a breathy laugh, "Nice to see you too, Kuzuri~ How have you been?"

The ginger boy snarled and spat in Albion's face, "Been better ya fucker! Keep your filthy claws off the brat-she's not your's to take! We made a deal remember?!"

Albion ignored the substance spat onto his face and merely smirked, "On the contrary, _we_ never made a deal- _Misaki and I_ made a deal~ and while the contract stated that I let him and Saruhiko go _and_ that I would give Misaki six years of uninterrupted peace with him _and_ that I would leave Saruhiko alone forever-it also said that Misaki would return to me after those six years so as to bring the number back to it's original total...and if you haven't noticed-we seem to be short a child due to Misaki's..._carelessness_ with an axe...It is _he_ who broke our deal not I."

Before Kuzuri could reply, the world spun and the breath rushed from his lungs when Albion flipped their positions. Hazel eyes blinked back into focus and immediately dull again in fear, "Hae's sorry...Hae won't do anything else to anger Kumo-Hae's sorry!" Albion chuckled and bent his head down to the boy's ear, "Hello, Hae~How are you doing? I missed my precious Hae." The raven nuzzled the frightened boy's neck and Hae let out a whine of fear and then a startled gasp, "S-Stop it!" Albion let out another laugh, "Ah~Misaki you're back! I missed you the most! It's only been a few minutes and I already miss your voice!"

The boy beneath him struggled against his hold but to no avail, Albion was just too strong for him. "Now now, my little fly...don't struggle~ Or do you want me to take Anna back with me?" At this Misaki stilled and allowed the older male to pin his arms above his head with one hand. "That'a boy~"

Misaki, though his eyes were quickly filling with tears and his lower lip trembled incessantly, looked up in slight defiance, "Even if I give you what you want you'll still take her...won't you?"

Albion smirked, "Ah~you know me too well!"

Misaki cast a glance over at the unconscious girl and squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip, "I'll do it."

The male paused from the small hickeys he was making and lifted his head so that his hovered over the other's lips.

"Hm? What was that?"

Neon green stared into frightened hazel.

"I said I'll do it."

Albion smirked and stepped away from the boy and strolled over to the clock, running a hand down the cracked glass, "Do what, little one? You'll have to be more specific..." Misaki struggled to stand and wiped the other's saliva from his neck with a whimper, "I'll let you make another one...inside my head..."

The smirk grew into a cruel grin, exposing sharp fangs, "Really now? You're such a good kid Misaki~ It's no wonder I love you so~ Come here then...my precious thing..."

Misaki let out yet another whimper and shuffled over to the other and into the man's outstretched arms. He tried to ignore the smell that came off the chest his nose was buried in: the familiar scent of damp corners and dusty leather books...

He felt the body he was pressed against rumble in his ear when the other laughed. Misaki whimpered again when those arms, so skeletal and yet so strong, wrapped around his smaller frame and held him close. Albion bent down so that his breath tickled the boy's ear and made him shiver, "You know what, Misaki?" He smiled when the other made a small sound of fear when his name passed his lips, "I think you've become a lot cuter now that you're older~"

Suddenly Albion grabbed a shard of glass from within the broken mirror and raised in high like a dagger, "Too bad I have to mar that precious skin of yours again!" Misaki let out a small shriek when he felt his shirt ripped away with the other's free hand, and yet he was stuck against the other's chest-unable to wrench himself free from the invisible arms that held him. His shivered when the cold air hit his back, exposing a full back tattoo of a spider web.

He let out a blood curdling scream when he felt jagged glass cut into his flesh and begin to trace the tattoo at an agonizingly slow pace. Albion chuckled and dug the shard deeper, relishing the boy's pained cries. "You're just too cute for your own good, my little fly."

Misaki's eyes burned with tears, and his back was on fire-it hurt more than it should, but that was to be expected from the ritual the other was enacting. All of a sudden, half of the tattoo traced in a blood soaked pattern, Misaki gave a shudder and blood gurgled from the back of his throat and poured out of his mouth like a waterfall.

Albion laughed maniacally and drew away sharply from the other to admire his handywork. Misaki felt forward and grappled at the wall for support, heaving gobs of blood from his mouth and onto the wood floor. He was dimly aware that his hand had grabbed onto the axe by mistake and caused it to clatter to the floor, but he could care less at that point. Every nerve was screaming and he felt like dying right there and then. Anything was better than the agony he was in.

But he looked back at the sleeping Saruhiko and Anna and changed his mind, he could do this-if not for his own he could do it for their sake. He would do anything for Saruhiko, he had proved this many times back at the orphange. One more trial was nothing for him, he had suffered so much already. But he would never get used to the feeling of that spell coursing through his veins, of that man's touch on his bare flesh. It was unnatural...it was _wrong_...

And yet, as he looked up blearily at the broken clock face that so clearly said that it was half past twelve, he couldn't help but think that this was how it should be...that he deserved to live like this...and to die like this...

* * *

Thanks for being so patient, you guys! I love you all! Could I get some more reviews please? I love you guys and want to know how you like the story so far.

BTW

Kuzuri= Wolverine


	9. Chapter 9

Alright people-time to let everyone go back into the past-or rather into Fushimi's mind-and see exactly what happened during Misaki's childhood.

**Note**: during this fic Kamamoto, Anna, and Eric will be absent for the next couple chapters becuase they are currently upstairs in the bar trying to keep away from everything.

* * *

"But Fushimi-"

"No! Have that girl let you watch my memories all you want-but I'm not going to watch Misaki go through that torture again! Today was enough! I don't...I don't want to have to see him look like that...I can't take it..."

The blunette turned away so his face was hidden by the shadows, but it was obvious that he was crying faintly by the shaking of his shoulders. Izumo reached out, about to say something, but Seri put a hand on his shoulder and shook her head. "Just let him be...Let's be thankful he's allowing us to look at his memories-I didn't expect that he'd let us do that. It's something personal...one's past..."

The group decided that to get a better grip on the situation, they would have to look into Fushimi's mind and look at his memories. They would have preferred it if the boy had told them instead, but he was adamant on staying quiet. He refused to say what happened during his childhood-obviously too painful to revisit.

Because the memories were more "solid"-being in Fushimi's mind instead of just a crime scene, Neko said she would be also to project everyone to watch them. She said that they would have to stay by Fushimi's side while in the dream like state in order to keep the memories flowing.

Neko looked up at Yashiro in confusion, looking for the okay from her precious Shiro. He glanced at the now silent Fushimi and bit his lip, "Alright Neko, let's go." She snapped her fingers, and everything went black.

* * *

Izumo shook his head free of fog, world spinning as he lay on his back on a wet patch of grass. He groaned and sat up, looking around blearily, "W-Where?" The others were in similar states of confusion, some more than others.

"W-What are you doing on top of me, Shohei?!"

"I-I fell-OW! Don't hit me Bandou!"

Izumo resisted a smirk at the boys antics and he heard Seri mutter something about "pent up sexual tension". He honestly couldn't agree more, the two of them needed to stop beating around the bush and get a room already. It was exhausting watching them run circles around each other.

He was brought back to reality when he heard Chitose gasp, "W-What the fuck is that?!"

He looked up and realized for the first time that he was in a forest. The sky was dark with storm clouds and the trees were gnarled and ominously dark. A house-no, a mansion-standing eight stories high lay in front of them, nestled among the trees. Paneled in gray blotchy wood, half of the windows boarded shut, and an overall castle-like look that was emphasized by the tall spire at the top, the place looked every bit like a haunted house. The group was lying on grass on the "lawn", divided by a dirt path that led to the intimidating manor's front door.

The sound of footsteps brought the groups attention to the front steps where a young boy, about eight or nine years old, stood in confusion. His messy dark blue hair was eerily familiar and he wore a navy blue long sleeve cotton sweater, a pair of white sneakers, and blue jeans. He had a dark green duffle bag slung over his right shoulder and was knocking on the door rather loudly.

"H-Hello? Is anyone there?"

"..."

"Hell-"

"STOP MAKING SO MUCH NOISE! LEAVE ALREADY!"

Fushimi blinked in surprise at the shrill female voice of a young girl. However, when the door flung open he was not met with a girl, but a boy. He was taller than Fushimi, around eleven years old, with light brown hair that spiked out like a lion's mane and two pieces that hung down into his pale face. He wore a white dress shirt, dark brown corduroy vest, and light brown slacks with brown dress shoes. He was surprisingly well dressed for a boy of his age, and looked like he stepped right out of the past-Fushimi didn't think that corduroy vests even _existed_ anymore!

His light brown eyes were piercing and the blunette shivered when the other frowned deeply, "Are you Saruhiko Fushimi?" His voice was deep for his age and Fushimi had to admit he was a little intimidated by the larger boy.

"Y-Yeah? Is this the Kumonosu Orphanage?"

The boy looked him over once with scrutinizing eyes, "...Yes...it is..."

When the other didn't make any move to let him in, Fushimi broke out into a nervous laugh, "Uh...can I come in?"

The boy grunted but begrudgenly stepped aside to allow the other to walk past. The brunette stood a few moments at the door just staring out into the dark woods, before closing it slowly with a creak.

The front door opened up to a long hallway with a high ceiling from which hung crystal chadeliers that were ladened in dust. The walls were faded dark purple with black patterns, watercolor paintings-too old and weathered to understand-hung on the ancient walls. The place was covered in dust-including the creaky wooden floor that was rooted and splintering in some areas.

The walls were lined with small candles that flickered rather eerily and were the only source of light in the windowless hallway. Old dark wood doors were locked tight and a few were even boarded shut.

Fushimi jumped when Ryo walked passed him and rather roughly knocked into his shoulder. He followed the older boy down the silent house rather nervously. "W-What's your name?" The other boy remained silent for a few moments, never breaking his brisk pace.

"...I'm Ryo...just Ryo..."

"Okay, Ryo...where's everyone else? I heard a girl yelling at me before..."

Ryo stopped mid pace and Fushimi had to brake fast in order to prevent from crashing into him.

"She wasn't yelling at _you_..."

"Then why was she-"

"GODDAMMIT YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING WHORE! I TOLD YOU STOP MAKING SO MUCH NOISE AND CLEAN SOMEWHERE ELSE! IF YOU NEED TO CLEAN SOMETHING-GO CLEAN THE TOILETS OR SOMETHING! YOU'RE SO USELESS YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

The was a crash and suddenly the door to the left smashed open and a boy was flung out into the hallway. Fushimi could only stare in horror as the small boy, no older than him, slid down the wall that was his support and slumped to the floor.

The boy had messy brown hair and insanely pale skin. The kid was all skin and bones, body smeared with dirt and littered in bruises. His white long sleeve shirt and pants were stained in what he could only assume was green paint. His bare feet were filthy and the boy was so thin he was borederline emaciated.

"Oh my God...what is this place?"

* * *

Do you like how it's going? Leave a **review** and tell me what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

Hey people! Ready to start learning about Misaki and Saru's past?! Are you ready?! I can't hear you! Anyway, I'm so happy for all the reviews I got and want to thank you all for being so supportive! I love you guys and couldn't do this without you!

**Warning:** language, bullying, violence, child abuse and neglect

* * *

Fushimi stared in horror as the boy remained unmoving on the floor. Ryo shook his head rather angrily and stalked through the open door with a snarl, leaving a frozen Fushimi standing over the fallen boy.

"Dammit Miyako! I thought I told you to leave him alone!"

"Shut up Ryo! You're not the boss of me!"

Fushimi looked up slowly from the boy to the doorway. He took a few hesitant step forwards and peeked into the room.

The purple room was rather spacious-with a large window on the far side that was boarded up and only let in faint slivers of light. The room was striped bare and the only things were random toys and miscellaneous items strewn about the floor. There was a bucket of green paint next to some poster board where a young boy and girl were finger painting.

Ryo stood in the middle of the room in front of a girl around the same age. Her hair was jet black and hung limply to her mid back. Her skin was pale and smeared in dirt, she looked as if she hadn't showered in days. She was a full head shorter than Ryo, yet still managed to hold her own against him. Her eyes were a blazing brown and her lips were curled back into a snarl. She wore boys clothing: black shoes and brown baggy pants rolled up to her knees to show off dirty skinny legs. She wore a loose black tank top and lacked a chest due to her young age. If her voice hadn't been that of a girl, Fushimi would have mistaken her for a boy.

The little girl who had been painting, five years old at the most, suddenly began to cry. She had her black hair done up in pigtails, and her little white dress was covered in dirt and green paint. She wore white stockings and little white shoes. A white teddy bear with black button eyes lay next to her. The boy beside her with short black hair, a black shirt and gray overalls with brown shoes quickly bear hugged her. He was around her age, but seemed to be the more mature of the two. He held her tightly as she bawled her eyes out, his own bright blue eyes sad.

"Stop it you two-you're making Mei cry again!"

A girl-at least Fushimi thought she was a girl-ran over to the two children and scooped them into her arms. Her short spiky black hair made her look like a boy, and her white dress shirt and black pants only furthered this look. Her brown eyes watered as she held the crying girl and the now also sobbing boy. Fushimi assumed she was the same age as Ryo and Miyako.

"It's all the whore's fault! It knows I don't want it close to me!"

Fushimi glanced behind him where the boy had been laying just moments earlier, only to gasp when he realized that the kid had disappeared-as if he had vanished into thin air.

"And what the _fuck_ are _you_ doing here?"

Fushimi gulped and whipped his head back to the room, only to whimper and immediately shrink back at Miyako's intimidating glare.

""Oh stop it Miyako-you're scaring the boy!""

The blunette blinked when the twin boys, who had been sitting quietly side by side in a far corner of the room, spoke in perfect unison.

It was beyond creepy.

The twins, holding hands in a way so that their fingers were entwined, practically skipped over to the door with identical looks of sympathy on their faces. They wore matching black short sleeved shirts and pants along with black shoes. Their hair was light brown and spiky and they had mischievous brown eyes. They looked to be about a year younger than Ryo and Miyako.

"Hi! I'm Hidori-"

"-and I'm Wanta!"

Fushimi couldn't help but shiver when they finished each other's sentences perfectly. The twins didn't seem to notice is discomfort and Hidori (the one of the right) ruffled his hair and Wanta pointed to the arguing duo, "That's Ryo and Miyako, the girl with the bear is Mei, the one holding her is Sora, the boyish looking girl is Marta-"

Hidori piped up and pointed to the corner they had sat earlier, "The blonde girl's Kisara, the quiet one is Ai, and the one with brown curly hair is Heather!" The twins were right, now that Fushimi moved so that he could see the entirety of the room, he spotted three girls sitting in circle in a corner.

A girl around Ryo's age sat cross legged with long straight blonde hair with a hint of waves, a white headband, white stockings and shoes, and a faded light blue plaid dress. Next to her was a girl with curly brown hair drawn back into a high pony tail with two curly locks hanging on either side of her face. Her yellow print sundress was dirty and her black stockings were ripped, her brown shoes as well. Finally, a girl with chopped black japanese style hair to her chin sat silently next to her. Her brown long sleeve conservative-style dress was buttoned up to her neck and reached her brown shoes.

Fushimi took a few hesitant steps into the room before shooting a glance back down the empty dark hallway.

"What was his name?"

""What was who's name?""

He swallowed thickly at the perfectly matched words but repeated his question anyway.

"The boy in the hallway that Miyako...threw...what was his name?"

"The name-?" Hidori started with a sudden look of disgust.

"-of that _thing_?" Wanta finished.

""It's name is Misaki.""

* * *

Four hours pass and Fushimi had yet to see a single adult in the vast mansion that is the orphanage. The eleven children all silently agree on moving to another room, and the walk through the hallway is one that Fushimi knows he'll never get used too. The corridor is too narrow and the _darkness_ far too _bright_.

The children walk in pairs and seem to fall into routine like dominos. Fushimi quickly learns that the orphans always walk with the same person: taking up the rear is Ai and Heather, then Sora and Mei, next are the twins, then Kisara and Miyako, and leading the little train is always Ryo by himself. Fushimi noticed that the boy stays to the right, as if leaving the space next to him open for some unseen person.

Marta walks a few steps behind Air and Heather with Fushimi so as to keep him company. He soon learns that Marta is the motherly type- clearly the most mature of the group and the voice of reason. Although the walk was short, only six doors down from the room the kids were in earlier, Fushimi felt as if it was taking a lifetime.

He's quick to catch on that no one likes talking about Misaki. Even though he thinks Misaki is a strange name for a boy he can't help but be interested in him. The way the other kids treated him was awful, and they clearly hated him for a reason. He decided against asking where the ginger had scampered off too, and has a sneaking suspicion that no one would answer if he asked.

The room they went in next was apparently the "play room". The walls, instead of a dreary purple or faded gray, were splattered in paint and were a mottled mixture of messy finger-painted-drawings and calm clean strokes. It looked like fruit rollups puked all over the place. The "carpet" was just cardboard sheets that were scattered and overlapped all over the floor.

Toys ranging from strangely colored yo-yos to a fully functional doll set lay about, but it was clear from general order which parts belonged to who. The corner that was messiest, and whose surrounding walls bore the most drawings, belonged to Sora and Mei-while the opposite corner held dolls and flowery things which ment it must belong to the girls.

The room was large and the only light came from a single light bulb with a hanging chain fixed to the ceiling. The room completely lacked windows, but had a closet to the right of the door.

"Neh, Saruhiko-how old are you?"

It was Marta who was asking, and he found himself once again the center of attention.

"I'm eight..."

"That's great! You're the same age as-"

Miyako cleared her throat in a way that immediately made Marta cut off her sentence. The bubbly boyish girl's honey brown eyes dimmed and she shuffled silently over to the flowery corner of the room. Kisara, Ai, Miyako, and Heather followed. Mei and Saru went off to corner with all the drawings and little toys, and Ryo and the twins went over to a separate corner to do God knows what.

Fushimi couldn't help but feel out of place. He wanted to understand why no one was talking to him, and why no one was introducing him to the adults. Why there _were no_ _adults_. He had expected to be welcome with open arms and explanations, but instead he had almost been knocked down by a flying boy who looked like he had crawled out of a dumpster.

Fushimi set his duffel bag down by the door and realized that the room was almost silent...because everyone was staring at him.

"What are you looking at? Is something w-wrong?" Fushimi rarely stuttered, but those ten sets of eyes boring down on him was just too freaky to be normal.

Ryo frowned from his place by the twins who were playing a game of go fish, "You're just...there just hasn't been a new addition in a long time...it's unusual...that's all..."

Fushimi was growing uncomfortable, he didn't like the silence, "Is there...is there a bathroom nearby that I could use?"

Ryo moved to stand, probably going to lead him to the restroom, but Miyako stopped him, "Two doors down that way." She pointed to the left and made no move to accompany him. Her brown eyes were cold.

"O-Okay...thanks...I guess..."

* * *

When he entered the surprisingly small bathroom, he hadn't expected someone to already be in there.

"S-Sorry! I didn't realize that an-...that anyone else was in here..." His voice got softer when he saw who was curled next to the toilet, between the safety of the porcelain bowl and the peeling gray wallpaper.

Misaki was ridiculously thin, he noticed, judging by the skinny arms that wrapped around his knees and the amount of cloth that hung off his body like an oversized blanket. The boy seemed so small in that house, and even smaller in the world. He didn't like the way the ginger had his head leaning on the wall, face blank and eyes seeing right past Fushimi. For a moment he was actually worried that the boy was dead. It was only until those eyes, a startlingly beautiful hazel, looked up at him, did he realize how truly dead Misaki was.

"Welcome to the Spider's Parlor...I hope you enjoy your stay."

* * *

""The twins talking in unison""

**Ages**:

Ryo, Miyako, Marta, and Kisara: 11

Hidori and Wanta: 10

Heather and Ai: 9

Misaki and Saruhiko: 8

Sora and Mei: 5

Also, vote on which name seems more badass for a man : **Vincent or Jack?** It has nothing to do with the story, just wanted to know...


	11. Chapter 11

**Note:** Just so everyone is clear, Izumo and the others are watching everything that's going on! Just to be clear! Also, I started referring to him as Saruhiko instead of Fushimi since it's just been bothering me~

Thank you for all the reviews and responses! You guys rock!

* * *

Saruhiko was sure he had never run out of a bathroom faster in his life. That boy-the one with the dead eyes and ginger hair wasn't normal! Nothing in that fucking house was normal! As he ran down the eerily quiet hallway towards the room where everyone was, he could even swear that he heard an extra set of footsteps running behind him. He swung open the door and froze, no one was there. He looked in the little white closet, but no one was there either. Even his duffle bag was missing from its spot beside the door! He clutched his head, _nothing makes sense! Where's the staff?! Where's anyone?!_

He bolted out into the hallway and began sprinting down the corridor like a madman. _This place is insane! What the hell is going on?! What is-_

He let out a small scream when he was suddenly yanked by his collar and into a room. He fell back blindly and was thrown into a collection of boxes. Before he could even open his eyes or sit up, a pair of hands wrapped around his throat and pinned him to the floor. He felt someone on top of him, straddling his waist, and realized that the person's hair was dangling in his face.

"Listen here,_ brat_. You're probably wondering where the grown ups are, and your answer is that _there aren't any_. The only other person in this place is Kumo, but he's upstairs all the time and we never see him. He isn't _human_, and this place isn't _normal_. It's_ cursed_, this place, and you would have been better off never setting foot on this property. We're here _alone_ and we have to take care of _ourselves_. Stop crying and _grow up_ because no one's gonna come to your rescue. There are rules in this place, and you'll have to follow them if you want to survive.

One: don't travel alone, you never know what might _find you_.

Two: We're only allowed outside once a year, but we can go out into the garden anytime we want as long as we punch out.

Three: We're only allowed on the first floor, every other floor is off limits.

Four: If a door is locked, it's for a _reason._

Five: If you want something, within reason-be it a med kit or a coloring book, you can find it in the storage room with the red X on the door. I told you this place was cursed, food will appear in the fridge and pantry from _thin air_ and stuff in the storage room changes everyday. We don't go to school but you can teach yourself just about anything if you check in the library and the books will change everyday too. Kumo could be a magician or a demon for all we know, but as long as we stay alive we don't really care.

Six: When Kumo starts talking on the gramophone, drop what you're doing no matter what and _stay still. _We follow what Kumo says and if you break the rules you'll be punished.

Seven: There are no phones in this place and escaping is impossible. There are things out in the forest that will kill you, so don't try to run. Just face the facts: you're going to live and die in this place. Don't try to escape because you _will_ fail.

Eight: This is the most important rule of all. Stay. Away. From. _It_. That whore called Misaki is just that: _a filthy slut._ Pick your friends wisely and stick with _me_. There is no room for softies here. That little shit is nothing but trouble and if you try and befriend him _everyone_ is going to _turn on you_. I'm going to personally _kill_ that bitch one day with my own hands and if you get in my way I won't hesitate to_ murder_ you."

Saruhiko gulped at Miyako's voice, her face inches from his own, brown eyes burning fiercely. She had him pinned in a room filled with old crates and wire shelves. They were all alone, but with the amount of shadows cast by the limited amount of light that filtered in from the moonlight between the boards on the window, anything was possible.

He had a feeling he wouldn't like living in this place one bit.

* * *

It turned out that Marta had taken his bag to the 'living quarters' so he wouldn't have to. Two rooms connected by a doorway in the middle, with military style cots along one wall. It reminded Saruhiko of something out of the past, and it bothered him greatly. The girls were in one room, and the boys were in the other. Sora was the only exception and slept next to Mei in the girls's room. In the boy's room there were four beds. The bed at the furthest end of the room, by the boarded up window, was currently being occupied by the twins. The two boys were curled up next to each other underneath the purple sheets. Then came an empty bed that Saruhiko assumed belonged to one of the twins, and then Ryo's, and then his own. At least, he assumed it was his own judging by the fact that his duffle bag was thrown ontop of the sheets.

The wall around had square blotches on it, as if someone had recently pulled down posters and the tape had gotten stuck. In fact, that's probably what it was considering that everyone's "space" had been properly identified with posters and stickers and such. There were names written in red crayon on the dark gray walls above each bed, except for the empty bed where there was no writing and instead the bed occupied by them had both names written above it. The space above his metal frame headboard had been thouroughly scrapped free of writing, exposing the drywall beneath it. Ryo handed him a red crayon and he felt the twins staring at him from their shared bed as he wrote his name silently.

The girls had retreated to their room sectioned off by purple curtain hung in the doorframe, and he could hear their giggles and shouts. It was only five thirty in the afternoon, if he believed that the coo coo clock hanging on the wall was correct, but the twins seemed tired enough to fall asleep soon after he finished writing his name on the wall. He looked over at Ryo, expecting instructions of some sort, but instead was met with the sight of the boy's back as he lay facing the other way. Saruhiko didn't think he'd offended the other boy, but anything was possible in such a fucked up house.

He unpacked his things quietly on the small nightstand by his bed and shoved the rest underneath, and then realized he had nothing else to do. He didn't want to bother the girls and he didn't want to get near the psycho that was Miyako so soon after the incident in the store room, the twins were asleep, and he had apparently gotten Ryo pissed at him. Which only left Misaki...

Which only left Misaki.

"Why does Miyako hate Misaki so much."

He did not miss the fact that the chattering on the other side of the curtain abruptly stopped and an eerie silence passed through the rooms. It was a while before Ryo spoke, and he turned slightly so that he could look at Saruhiko over his shoulder with dark brown eyes, "Miyako hates Misaki because-"

"-Because that little whore killed Shinji!"

The curtain was thrown back and Miyako stood furiously in the doorway, eyes blazing.

"Misaki is..._many_ things...but Shinji's killer he is not."

Ryo sat up so that his back was propped up against the metal headboard and glared blankly at the angry girl. Saruhiko cocked his head, _Shinji?_

"Shut up Ryo! You know it's true! You were his best friend! You know what he said about that little shit following him around! You saw how he acted before he died! You and everyone else know that Misaki's got ties with Kumo! You know he killed my brother!"

Then it all suddenly clicked.

Why everyone kept staring at him.

Why Ryo walked like someone was supposed to walk next to him.

Why the name above his bed was scratched out and the poster tape was still there.

Why Ryo seemed so put off by his presence.

_He had taken Shinji's place._

The only question left...

Was_ why?_

* * *

**I just realized that there were eight rules-like the theme of spiders 0.o (eight legs)**

Wow, I didn't even do that on purpose!

Also, today I was watching a markiplier video and the "Don't skip it" trailer of the Evil Dead came on and I actually screamed out loud and almost broke my laptop. I may like writing horror and stuff like this, but horror movies and demonic stuff really scares me shitless and I HATE IT. Saw? Not in a million years-my friend showed me an "after pic" of the Reverse Bear Trap and I actually started crying.

Funny how I can write stuff like this and watch/read anime/manga like Evangelion, Elfen Lied, and Higurashi.

Go figure.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** K doesn't belong to me- blah blah blah- it belongs to GoRA and Gohands and the alphabet :0

Warnings:...

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Dinner in the orphanage was done just the same as everything else: in a group. The kitchen was small, wedged into the far corner of the house in a room lit by a single exposed bulb hanging from the ceiling and the only window in possibly the whole house that wasn't boarded up. There was a set of cabinet counters on one side of the room, a built-in sink with the window over it that gave a rather lovely view of a small vegetable garden, a long wooden table with twelve chairs around it in the center of the little black and white tiled floor. A fridge was next to the sink, bereft of any magnets or photos that one would expect to find in a house full of kids.

Then again, Kumonosu wasn't a normal orphanage.

The number of chairs surprised Saruhiko, he didn't expect there to be a chair for Misaki. Then again, it could very well belong to Kumo...but according to the other kids, he never left the upstairs, so he just decided to keep his mouth shut and shuffle in behind the others. The twins immediately bounded over to the fridge and yanked it open in perfect unison, something he knew he was never going to get used to, and let out matching groans.

""Not _stew_ again! We had stew for lunch!""

"Stop whining and go set the table!" Miyako barked at the twins and then turned to the girls, "Kisara you're in charge of the stew. Ai and Heather you guys are in charge of the salad, Mei go get the glasses, Sora can pour the water, Ryo go cut up the beef in the fridge, and I'll go fix up the spices. _Marta-"_ The boyish looking girl looked up suddenly at the other with wide eyes, "Y-Yes?"

Miyako narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at Saruhiko, "Show that one how to punch out and then go help Kisara with the stew. _Get moving!_"

The kitchen exploded into barking orders and clinking of silverware. Marta hurriedly ushered Saruhiko to a door he hadn't realized had been at the far end of the room the entire time. It was a screen door, but it didn't really matter since it was boarded up from the inside. Next to the door was a series of bells, twelve of them, each with a little sign above it and a little string you would pull to make it ding. Each sign was a name written in red, but the last one had the previous name scratched out. Marta handed him the same red crayon he used for above his bed that she produced out of nowhere, "Write you're name on the sign where Shinji's name used to be. That'll be your bell. You ring the bell when you want to go out into the garden and the door will open."

"But the door is boarded up and there's no door knob..."

"Kumo's rules don't have to make sense. You just follow them and pretend things aren't so bad."

He didn't miss the hitch in the end of her sentence, but took the crayon and did as he was told.

"Can we go outside whenever we want?"

Marta shook her head and watched him write out the kanji of his name in red, "No. Only once a day per person and even then sometimes Kumo won't let open the door." He was about to ask why but she gave him a stern look, "I see I'm going to have to say it more than once: Kumo's rules don't have to make sense. Just follow the rules and don't worry about the rest." She bit her lip and moved in a little closer and put a hand on his shoulder in a way that he supposed was reassuring, "Look, I know this is difficult for you with all this stuff being so new and scary...but...I'm really sorry but we have no choice, it's do as we're told or suffer the consequences, I'm the perfect example of that."

Instead of elaborating she gave him a pat on the back and went over to help Kisara with the stew, leaving him with just another set of questions for his ever growing list.

* * *

It only took twenty minutes to prepare everything, and soon enough all of them sat around the table in no particular order. The empty seat where Misaki was "supposed" to sit was next to Saruhiko, but other than that, everyone sat wherever they pleased. Apparently you could sit anywhere during dinner. Ryo cleared his throat and the chatter ceased, "Bless us O Lord-"

That was yet another things that took Saruhiko off guard. There weren't a lot of Christians in Japan, and he didn't think that these kids would be part of the small minority. Nevertheless, they all said the prayer together and then dug into their small dinner of beef stew and salad. Saruhiko ate his meal quietly, as opposed to everyone else chattering their heads off in one of the only social meal of the day. They seemed happier, even if just by a little, all there at the table together, reenacting an everyday thing that in such a place just didn't seem okay in the grand scheme of things.

The food was good-if not a little bland-and he felt better in no time. He vaguely wondered, on the way back to their bedrooms, if Misaki was ever going to show up again. A part of him didn't want him to show up at all, because he was sure that Miyako would try and beat him up or something, and the other part found him wildly interesting.

Before coming to this "orphanage" he had been at another, and even there he wasn't very popular. It was more of that he stayed away from others, rather than them wanting to stay away from him. He wasn't a very social person and tended to keep to himself. It had been that way even four years ago, when he still had his parents around. His father was a drunk and his mother was always away at parties, they didn't hire a nanny when they were away and he had to learn to take care of himself. He was only four when they died in a train wreck.

Bounced from orphanage to orphangae, he had grown tired of it all. However, for better or for worse, this place was his permanent home now...and he wasn't sure how he felt about that...

As he lay on top of his bed, it now around eight at night, his mind was hard at work trying to figure out exactly where he was. When he had gotten in the car to move to the "new and exciting orphanage down the road!" he hadn't expected on it being more than an hours drive, or that he'd fall asleep after said hour, and then wake up on the side of the road in front of a gate. He was in the middle of nowhere, no car or orphanage in sight. He couldn't find a pay phone after walking up and down the road for a while, so he went back to the big iron gate. He had pushed the old rusty thing open rather easily and found himself on a pathway through a dark forest. It had taken him more than twenty minutes to reach the orphanage, and he was already wishing he hadn't-the place was foreboding enough on the outside. He really wanted to go back to his own orphanage, at least there he was ignored and not just stared at like he was a ghost or something.

The crash of a plate from the kitchen all the way down the hall brought back his attention. The twins had gone off to play in the girl's room with them and Ryo trailed behind not long after-leaving Saruhiko alone in the boy's section. There was silence from the girl's side as everyone just held their breath and listened.

The scraping of a chair on a tile floor and then the tell-tale sounds of a fridge hissing open.

...

Miyako's voice suddenly exploded from the other side of the purple curtain.

"WHORE-STAY OUT OF THE FUCKING KITCHEN YOU HEAR ME?!"

Saruhiko winced at the sheer volume of her voice and was thankful he was in a separate room.

"M-Miyako!", Mara's softer voice was a relief, "You've kept him out of the kitchen all week! He hasn't eaten in three days!"

Saruhiko sat up at her words, t-three days?!

"So? WHO WOULD CARE IF THE SLUT DIED?!" Miyako threw her voice in a way so that Misaki could hear her in the kitchen.

"P-Please Miyako! Let him eat, he's going to die if we don't and you know we'll all be blamed for it!"

Miyako paused, "..Alright...YOU CAN EAT ONE MEAL YOU UNDERSTAND?! AND IT BETTER NOT BE ON A PLATE! I'M NOT GOING TO RISK EATING OFF SOMETHING A WHORE TOUCHED!"

There were a few more cluttered sounds from the hallway, and then a peaceful silence.

"There Marta-you happy now?"

"Very much so."

* * *

It was exactly eight o'clock when the gramophone in the corner of the boy's room crackled to life.

'_Hello children, time for bed now'_

The disembodied male voice sent a chill down Saruhiko's spine and he watched silently as Ryo and the twins emerged from the girl's room and went to their beds. He could see, from the brief gap in the curtain, that the girls and Sora had already tucked themselves in.

_'I can see we have a new child joining us today, I hope you have enjoyed your stay so far, Saruhiko Fushimi.'_

Saruhiko froze and darted his eyes around the room, _how could he possibly see me?! There aren't any cameras in here...are there?_

'Well, let's begin the story, shall we?'

Ryo turned over to Saruhiko with a strange look in his eyes that the other couldn't place. "Here, use these if you want." The older boy handed Saruhiko two cotton balls. He looked at the older boy in confusion and he motioned to his ears, "They're earplugs."

"Why would we need-"

'_Will you walk into my parlour? said the spider to the fly.  
__Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy,  
__The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,  
__And I've a many curious things to show when you are there._

_Oh no, no, said the little Fly, to ask me is in vain,  
For who goes up your winding stair, can ne'er come down again.  
__I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high  
__Will you rest upon my little bed? said the Spider to the Fly._

_There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,  
And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!  
__Oh no, no, said the little Fly, for I've often heard it said  
__They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!_

_Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, Dear friend what can I do,  
To prove the warm affection I 've always felt for you?  
I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice  
I'm sure you're very welcome, will you please to take a slice?_

_Oh no_, _no, said the little Fly, Kind Sir, that cannot be,  
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!  
__Sweet creature! said the Spider, you're witty and you're wise,  
__How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!_

_I've a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,  
If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself  
__I thank you, gentle sir, she said, for what you're pleased to say,  
__And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day._

_The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,  
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again  
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,  
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly._

_Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,  
Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing,  
Your robes are green and purple, there's a crest upon your head  
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!_

_Alas, alas! How very soon this silly little Fly,  
__Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by  
__With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,  
__Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue_

_Thinking only of her crested head, poor foolish thing! At last,  
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.  
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,  
Within his little parlour, but she ne'er came out again!_

_And now dear little children, who may this story read,  
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed.  
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,  
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.'_

Saruhiko held his breath as the poem filled the air with suffocating tension. He broke out in a cold sweat and his heart raced in fear. _What the fuck is this place?!_

Ryo turned his way with a bored expression on his face and cotton in his ears, "I told you to use the ear plugs...you didn't listen..."

_'Now, my little Fly, will you join me in the Parlour?'_

Saruhiko listened for the sounds of Misaki in the kitchen, but during the poem he had grown silent.

_'Ah~very good...goodnight children.'_

The gramophone switched off with a loud snapping sound and almost immeiately Miyako sounded from the other side of the curtain, "Heheheh-you're such a whore, Misaki Yata."

Saruhiko blinked and then whipped his head over to the hallway, where he could see the faint glow of the candals mounted around the spiral staircase. The hallway led directly to the center of the house, where there was an enourmous open spiral staircase and a skylight at the top of the tower. He could faintly hear the sounds of shuffling footsteps and then a small figure moved in front of the open bedroom door and down the hall.

Ryo tapped him on the shoulder and mouthed to him silently, _just leave him be._

Saruhiko opened his mouth to say something, but before he even knew what to say the sound of Misaki treking up the creaking wood met his ears. Up and up until Saruhiko couldn't hear his footsteps anymore.

Thus ended his first night...but not his last.


	13. Chapter 13

Sorry for the long update-break, it's just that I've had finals and things just are in a tornado right down. Also, I stumbled upon Shingeki no Kyojin (Attack on Titan) which is the most amazing thing since sliced bread! I'm in fucking LOVE with Rivaille/Eren and Mikasa is just a fucking boss! Alright, enough with the stalling!

* * *

**Also, if you are interested in doing fanart for this fanfiction, please PM me.**

* * *

When Saruhiko woke up, Ryo was just finishing making up his bed and everyone else was gone. The brunette sighed and tugged the sheets away from Saruhiko with a frown, "Wake up, Saruhiko. I let you sleep late but it's already two in the afternoon. The rest are at breakfast." The blunette grumbled something and dragged his clothes to the bathroom at the end of the hallway to get changed.

Things were seperated in the bathroom, just like the rooms, according to gender. To the right of the sink was a cluster of pinks, and to the left was where Saruhiko put his toothbrush, where the other boys did. As he brushed his teeth in the cracked mirror, he couldn't help but feel strangely at home in the rundown bathroom. It was small but fairly decent in terms of shelving space, and it was cleaner than he had thought. It was the same bathroom he had found Misaki the previous day... Saruhiko stopped brushing when he sensed someone in the doorframe. He didn't need to look to know who it was, he knew by the hairs stiffening on the back of his neck and the strange silence the intruder brought with him that let him know.

Misaki wore the same type of clothes he had the day before, only free from stains and the white fabric looked brand new. His thin body was clean as well, all dirt and other things gone. However his hair was still as messy as before, and his eyes still looked like dead marbles in a sunken face.

"Misa-"

"What are you still doing in this house? Why haven't you escaped yet?"

Saruhiko let the toothbrush clatter from his hands and into the sink, shock evident on his face. Misaki was looking straight at him now, dead eyes blazing with something not unlike hate. The other's voice was stronger than before, a strength there that wasn't present in their first meeting. Saruhiko couldn't move, the other's words freaked him out more than the others', because unlike them, Misaki was blunt. He said the truth and that's all there was.

"I'm...sorry?" Saruhiko paused, gauging the other for any sign of reaction.

The brunette shot a glance at the toilet, or maybe just in that direction, and walked towards Saruhiko without looking at him. The blunette found himself unable to take a step back, he was frozen in both fear and shock.

Misaki just took his thin wrist in both hands and trailed upwards with his fingers, following the veins in the taller boy's arm. "You don't understand...do you?" The boys voice was very faint, and Saruhiko wasn't sure if he was meant to hear it. Misaki's path led to Saruhiko's elbow and he then looked up at the boy, his voice a little louder, "You're not welcome in this house. No one is going to accept you as his replacement." Saruhiko was surprised to find a fire in those honey eyes that wasn't there before.

Suddenly Misaki dug his nails into the other's arm, drawing blood and making Saruhiko hiss and jerk back in pain, but Misaki's grip was stronger than he expected and he refused to let go. Misaki's eyes narrowed almost hatefully, "I won't let you replace him!" Misaski's voice was louder than ever, almost rising to a screech. Blood ran down Saruhiko's arm like it was crying crimson, but he refused to let it show how much it hurt.

Then Misaki let go, dropping his blood covered hands to his side and hanging his head almost in defeat.

"Stupid...I shouldn't try and help you...you'll just end up dying if I do..."

Then he left, leaving Saruhiko with a head full of questions and a mess to clean up.

He tried to ignore the fact that when he looked down, the blood stains on the tile were no longer there.

* * *

The kitchen was rowdier than the night before.

Miyako was chopping up onions at the head of the table, Ai and Kisara sitting on either side-both peeling potatoes while chatting away. The twins were busy frying eggs, all the while maintaining skin-touching distance of each other. Marta was also sitting at the table while she cut up ham into cubes, Mei and Sora playing underneath her feet with fallen potato peelings. Ryo was the only one by himself, sitting on the floor propped up against the fridge whilst shelling green beans into a bowl.

Saruhiko walked into the kitchen fairly unnoticed, and was surprised when he spotted Misaki standing on a stepping stool as he cleaning tomatoes in the sink. He had thought, considering the treatment the others had dealt the ginger, that Misaki wouldn't be welcome in their prescene. Apparently that was only sometimes.

Marta noticed him first.

The tomboy's eyes brightened at his arrival, "Saruhiko! Did you sleep well? We let you sleep in...Saruhiko, what happened to your arm?" The blunette suddenly found the whole rooms' eyes on him, and he felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. He spared the briefest glance at Misaki, who was the only one in the room who hadn't stopped what they were doing; he wasn't even looking at him. Saruhiko looked down at his elbow, bandaged with the only first aid things he had brought with him. He would have to use the "special door" that Miyako had told him about next time.

"Just...caught it on the doorframe to the bathroom, it's fine." He played it off with a shrug, visibly stiffening when Miyako caught his eyes, then went back to nosily chopping onions with her large knife. Marta nodded, not really believing him, and goes back to work.

Saruhiko suddenly realizes that it_ was_ late and he _was_ hungry, and padded over to the unoccupied chair at the end of the table, by Ryo. Marta rolled over a potato with a small smile, and he ate it hungrily.

"Did you sleep well?" Saruhiko realized that Marta's attempting to have a conversation with him, and he is suddenly filled with a certain form of anxiety. He'd always been a loner at the other orphanages, he didn't like to mingle with others for the simple fact that he didn't like being in large groups.

Saruhiko nodded but was otherwise silent, hopping that Marta would catch on that he didn't want to talk. Thankfully the girl seemed to understand and went back to cutting up ham.

All was peaceful...until Misaki started talking.

"Did you...like your first night here?"

Saruhiko put down the potato and looked over at Misaki in surprise. He hadn't expected the other to speak up, especially like the incident earlier hadn't happened. Miyako snorted suddenly and broke out into a cackle, "What's this? The whore's trying to communicate with us?"

Something squirted onto Saruhiko's face. Frowning, he wiped it away only to see it was some tomato. He looked over at Misaki in shock, horrified to see that the boy was standing rigid over the sink. Misaki's eyes were hidden by his hair, his mouth in a firm line, he had crushed a tomato between his hands from squeezing it too hard.

Misaki's stunt only made Miyako cackle louder, even more so when Misaki slipped on the stepping stool and fell to the floor in an attempt to get a towel to clean off his now ruined shirt. Saruhiko frowned and stood up to help him, but nails digging into his wrist stopped him in his tracks. He looked down at the extra arm latched onto him and narrowed his eyes at Marta and yanked himself away. He was sick of everyone treating Misaki like shit.

The ginger sat up from the floor slowly, blood dripping profusely from his chin where he had whacked it on the counter. Without a second thought, Saruhiko grabbed a napkin from the table and bent down to hold it to the boy's wound. Misaki immediately jerked backwards at the gesture, only to smack his head into the cabinets, making Miyako laugh again.

Saruhiko saw small tears gather in the corners of Misaki's eyes, and felt a stab of pity for the poor boy. Saruhiko wasn't a mean person, sure he liked to tease, but he had never hated anyone like he hate Miyako at that moment. He reached out and steadied Misaki, making sure he didn't run away, and held the cloth napkin to the boy's chin. As crimson liquid soaked into the fabric, he held Misaki's tear-filled gazed.

And that's when Saruhiko figured out why Misaki's eyes were bothering him so much. It wasn't the color, he had seen people with that eye color before, it was the loneliness behind those dull irises. He was lonely himself, loneliness was nothing new. But this boy took that emotion to a whole new level. He had never seen anyone or anything look so utterly alone in the world. It was as if the boy had seen hell and come back like a demon, shunned and despised and Saruhiko didn't understand any of it.

_Just what happened to you, Misaki? _Saruhiko licked his lips, "Do you..." he started, aware of the sharpness of Miyako's laughter, and the closeness of Ryo who sat virtually next to Misaki still leaning on the fridge as if the world was good.

"Do you want to be my friend?"

The silence was deafening.

Even Mei and Sora, unaware of what was really going on, had gone deathly quiet. He could feel everyone staring at the back of his head, and was acutely aware of Miyako's eyes boring holes into his skull. He tried to keep calm and watch Misaki as best he could, gauging the other's reaction.

Misaki looked like he had just been drenched in ice water. His eyes were wide, skin paler than ever, body rigid. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, and Saruhiko couldn't understand what the other was thinking. Misaki opened his mouth like he was going to say something, when something imbed itself into the cabinet right next to the ginger's head.

It was a steak knife.

"Get out before I kill you."

Saruhiko spun around, eyes wide and panicked, "What the fu-" He stopped mid sentence at everyone's faces. Eyes almost blazing, everyone was still the same as they were before-all staring with impassive cold looks on their faces. Miyako was the only one standing, hand reaching for Marta's kitchen knife. She wore a sickening smile, one he had only seen in slasher movies he had caught the orpahange staff watching when they thought the kids were asleep.

It was the smile of a psychopath.

Without another word, without a second thought, Saruhiko grabbed Misaki's wrist and wrenched off the floor and out of the kitchen. He pulled the boy behind him with the intention to flee from that fucked up place, from all these fucked up people, but where could he go? He couldn't leave the house, there was apparently something outside that would hunt him down, and what about Kumo? Would Kumo let him leave if he fell to his knees and begged?

He wasn't watching where he was taking them, and suddenly he found himself at the entrance to the center of the house: the staircase. It wasn't sunny outside, it was actually starting to rain and looked like it was going to continue all day, but there was a shaft of light coming down from the tower-creating a large circle of light on the floor. He stopped dead in his tracks, something in his gut told him not to get near the circle, to not get any closer to that stairwell.

Misaki yanked his hand away and stood in front of him, stepping dangerously close to the light. He was shadowed in the dark and Saruhiko couldn't see his face. "I...don't know how to have friends..." Misaki's voice was weak compared to that morning.

Saruhiko smiled sadly, "Don't worry, I don't either." There was a pause in which Saruhiko was afraid he would hear Miyako's footsteps running behind him, creeping up to stab them to death. It was always a possibility in that house of crazies. Misaki reached out slowly and took his hand, and Saruhiko found it clammy with cold sweat, "C'mon, I'll take you to my room, we'll be safe there. No one ever likes going near the stairwell. Just stay out of the light and don't look up. Whatever you do, please don't look up."

Saruhiko's heart leapt into his chest, but he did as he was told and silently followed behind Misaki as they skirted around the circle and headed for a door under the stairs. Saruhiko wasn't as surprised as he knew he should be, "You...live under the stairs?"

Misaki fished a key out of his pocket and unlocked the dusty wood door. It opened fairly silently, unlike in Saruhiko's imagination where it opened with a creaking noise like every other door in that fucking house.

"This is my room."

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Like? Loathe? Wanna kill Miyako? Review and PMs are always welcome!


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry it's so short, I'm in Spain on vacation right now and I've been very busy.**

**Disclaimer: blah blah not mine blah blah**

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It was small. There was no other word that could describe Misaki's room better. Except for maybe the word: bare.

The walls were bare expanses of cracking plaster, the floor the same rotting wood planks as the rest of the house. In the far left corner was Misaki's bed, however it was just a plain mattress lying on the floor with a single large white comforter. No sheets or pillows. It was neatly made, though, as if Misaki never slept in it and just sat on it instead.

In the other corner was a chest.

It wasn't a plastic toy chest- it was a large leather bound chest that someone would keep books in. Between the chest and the bed was the only window in Misaki's room, and one of the only unboarded windows in the entire house. Outside it was dark with rain clouds, despite only being around three in the afternoon. A single pull-the-chain ceiling bulb served as the only light.

That was all that was in Misaki's room.

Misaki locked the door behind them and Saruhiko suddenly felt nervous, as if he shouldn't be intruding on the ginger's personal space. But the boy's room was hardly personal, right? Misaki moved past him and pulled the chain to let a little light in.

Misaki went and sat on his bed, leaving Saruhiko standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. The blunette paused for a moment, before settling himself a nice uncomfortable seat on the wood floor. "Um..." Saruhiko, now thinking in retrospect, didn't really have any friends in his life, so he didn't know how to act in such a situation. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Misaki seemed to be in the same boat. At least they were headed in the same direction.

Saruhiko took this time as a opportunity to scrutinize his company's appearance. Misaki's shirt was still stained in tomato juice, but thankfully his chin had stopped bleeding and was starting to scab over. Saruhiko motioned to the back of his head, "Does your head hurt?" Misaki just stared at him rather confused. Saruhiko shifted where he sat, growing more self conscious by the second, "You know, from where you hit it on the cabinet earlier?" Misaki shook his head and Saruhiko looked at the window.

Light flashed outside as lightning struck somewhere out in the forest, a soft rumbling echoing a few seconds after.

"Why would you want to be my friend?" the voice is almost a whisper, but Saruhiko heard it above the stifling silence. Misaki's hair covered his eyes, so he couldn't see the boy's expression-but he assumes it is as frightened as his voice.

"...You...You aren't like the others. You're different..." he replied slowly, and instantly regretted his words when Misaki reacts with an almost violent cackle. The boy threw his head back suddenly as he laughed, a laugh tinged with madness and something not unlike despair. "Different? Yeah I guess that's a way of putting it..." he stopped laughing all together with an abruptness that unnerves Saruhiko as much as the calm voice he spoke in. But Saruhiko was never one to be scared of anything, "...Misaki...what's with this place? What's going on? Why is this place so freaky? Why does that person upstairs called Kumo never come downstairs? Who's Shinji?"

Saruhiko saw something flash across hazel eyes at the final question, but it was gone before he could pinpoint the emotion. Misaki let out a heavy sigh and picked at his sleeve, "You aren't wrong for being curious as to what's going on...but it's wrong to pursue that curiosity...you'll only get yourself killed."

"...What did you mean when you said this morning that you were trying to help me?"

Misaki glanced away, "...The blood disappeared from floor...didn't it?" He looked back at Saruhiko's shocked face, hazel eyes piercing,

_"The house is alive, Saruhiko."_

...

A shiver went down Saruhiko's spine, "W-What are you saying?"

"This house is alive. It has a mind of it's own and act's according to what it wants...to what _I _want...to some degree. It protects me, though I don't know why...It protects me from Miyako, too."

Saruhiko looked at him confused, "Kumo can do magic, right? He's like a wizard? Doesn't he control the house so it protects you?" Misaki just deadpanned, "Kumo doesn't care whether I live or die, the house _does. _It'll protect you too as long as it has some of your blood to recognize you by."

"Recognize me?"

"So that when it tastes your blood the next time Miyako hurts you, it'll know who it needs to save."

...

"I should...go back..." Saruhiko stood up slowly, eyeing Misaki warily. He regretted coming to Misaki's room, the boy was definitely crazier than Miyako. He'd take his chances with the psychopathic girl than the boy whose eyes made his skin crawl.

Misaki nodded but didn't look up, "I'll be seeing you soon, then?"

It's more of a statement than a question.

* * *

When he opened the door, Miyako was there to greet him. She had a look of smug satisfaction on her face, chesire grin strapped into place. Saruhiko blinked and looked down at her hands, only to realize that within them are all his things.

"Wha-"

_"Leave."_

It's a command; one that baffles him. A shiver ran down his spine when he realized that she was still smiling as she spoke. He peers over her shoulder into the dark of the room, and catches Ryo's stoney gaze. The brunette turns around to break their eye contact. Marta has her head peaking out from the curtain to the girl's side, she worried her lower lip and her eyes are filled with pity, but she doesn't say anything against him leaving.

"I don't understand."

Miyako reaches to her side and digs her nails into his sheets, and with a single tremendous heave, rips the whole mattress off the bed frame and sliding onto the floor. She grinned again, this time her canines seem more prominent, though it's probably just a shadow.

"You made your choice. These are the repercussions. Now, grab your shit and get the fuck out of here."

She dumped his things onto the mattress and, once again with strength that baffles him, kicks it out the doorway and into the hallway, knocking him back into the wall with a thud.

When she slams the door the last thing he sees is Ryo's eyes, filled with an emotion he can't place.

Saruhiko didn't waste any time in shoving his mattress down the hallway towards Misaki's room. His mind is frazzled so he doesn't think much, he's just trying to get himself in a room that's safe, because he didn't like to be alone in that house.

Saruhiko was surprised to find Misaki standing expectantly standing in front of his door. The blunette frowned, "You knew they were going to kick me out and you didn't tell me?" Misaki opened his door quietly and helped Saruhiko pull the mattress inside all the while maintaing a certain distance from the spotlight, "You never asked."

They did things systematically, Saruhiko let Misaki put the mattress where he wanted-after all, it was his room and he was really an unwelcome guest. He let Misaki push the bed next to the door in the corner, the farthest away from his own bed and didn't ask questions. He really should have expected as much.

After setting up his things and settling himself in his sheets, Saruhiko looked up at Misaki. The brunette had crawled into his own bed, covers wrapped around his thin frame like a cocoon, watching him silently in the moonlight. Saruhiko cleared his throat awkwardly, "Um...do you have any rules?" Misaki's hollow expression didn't change. "I mean, do you have any rules regarding me staying here?" Misaki nodded his head once, eyes peering out through his hood of sheet, "Just one."

The rain outside gently pelted the window, running little streaks of black shadows on the wood floor.

"_Never_ ask me about Shinji again...it's for your own safety that you leave those questions unanswered... "

* * *

Thank you all for your support- and don't forget your reviews keep me going!


	15. Chapter 15

Hi everyone! I'm in my college dorm room right now on my last day of orientation, tomorrow I start school and I have to say: I don't think I've ever been more nervous in my life. I'm having a ton of fun, I'm independent, made friends in like five seconds of getting on campus that are just like me and hate drinking, and everything's going well. But of course I wont be updating and writing my stories as much, both my fanfictions and my actual book I am publishing.

I don't own anything and the italics portion i got off a website so i don't own it either, totally lost the link :P

* * *

It took a week before anything "abnormal" happened between Saruhiko and Misaki. Saruhiko was terrified of Miyako, but he refused to show it-so he rarely left Misaki's side and made sure to skirt away from Miyako and the other kids. Misaki was silent, he didn't seem to have much of a personality, so Saruhiko left him alone and didn't ask questions. At promptly eight every night Kumo would say the same poem and request Misaki's presence, Saruhiko felt dread coil in his stomach every time Misaki would leave their room silently and obediently climb the stairs. For whatever reason Misaki requested that Saruhiko never look up, he obeyed it-there were too many things in this house that had already scarred Saruhiko for life, he didn't need another-whatever it was.

Early one morning Saruhiko decided he was sick of knowing nothing about his roommate, when the chest in the corner of the room caught his eye. Misaki had yet to return from upstairs, and wouldn't return for a while, so Saruhiko had time. But should he do it? It wasn't his chest to open...

"Screw it."

He unlatched the lock with trembling hands, a thrill of adrenaline throbbing in his veins like he always got when doing something he knew he shouldn't. Inside the chest was dark, a waft of staleness hitting Saruhiko in the face. He squinted against the rush of dust and peered inside.

As a child Saruhiko watched the other little orphan girls play with dolls, dolls with glass eyes and frilly dress and bodies made of plastic.

The doll at the bottom of the chest was nothing like those dolls.

Red button eyes sewed on with black thread, a small smile of green thread, a body made of a burlap sack tied with rubber bands to form a vague body of a person. The doll's yellow hair was short and wild, made of something dry like straw, sticking up in all directions. A dress of pleated green table cloth adorned with simple black sequins. The doll was roughly a foot long and stuffed with something other than cotton. Gently, and with the distinct impression that he was being watched, Saruhiko lifted the doll from the chest and saw it was laying on a small stack of books, their covers coated in dust and grime and the titles worn away by age.

"The doll's name is Sasako."

Saruhiko spun towards the open door, not even hearing it open, and clutched the doll tighter by instinct. Misaki looked like he always did in the morning after he returned from upstairs: clean and freshly clothed in the same white outfit he wore every day. Saruhiko looked at the doll and then back at Misaki, who was closing the door behind him and walking over to him.

"I'm sorry I just-"

"It's okay, just don't rip her."

Saruhiko nodded and Misaki knelt beside him, holding out his hands expectantly for Sasako, and Saruhiko handed it to him readily. The brunette cradled the doll like a child, with a look of fondness in his eyes that Saruhiko had never seen before. Misaki touched the straw hair and ran a finger down the green dress, "The house gave her to me..." Saruhiko looked at Misaki in mute horror, like he did every time the other went on about the house being alive.

It was then that Saruhiko noticed the bruise.

It was up on Misaki's neck, right above the collar of his shirt, but it wasn't like the other bruises the boy occasionally sported from Miyako's rough handling. It was in an almost perfect oval, red on the edges and dark purple blotches in the center, and roughly about the side of a peanut shell. Misaki felt the others eyes on him and placed a hand over it. Saruhiko swallowed thickly when their eyes met, hazel and dark blue locked in twisting emotions.

"Did...Did Kumo give you that bruise?"

Misaki looked away, but not before Saruhiko caught the unmistakable look of shame on the others face. Misaki bit his lip and reached into the chest and pulled out the books, the only other thing in the chest besides the doll, and thrust them roughly at Saruhiko. The latter was surprised, Misaki was usually gentle in his mannerisms and didn't like touching the other boy.

Misaki gave the doll another squeeze and then put it back in the bottom of the trunk carefully. Then he got up and went over to his bed and virtually passed out, leaving Saruhiko with only the books and the others breathing as company.

Saruhiko took the first book of four and noticed that some pages were marked with strips of white cloth hanging from the side. He opened to the first tab, to a page streaked in yellow highlighted paragraphs.

_Most people diagnosed with MPD were either physically or sexually abused as children. Many times when a young child is severely abused, he or she becomes so detached from reality that what is happening may seem more like a movie or television show than real life. This self-hypnotic state, called disassociation, is a defense mechanism that protects the child from feeling overwhelmingly intense emotions. Disassociation blocks off these thoughts and emotions so that the child is unaware of them. In effect, they become secrets, even from the child. According to the American Psychiatric Association, many MPD patients cannot remember much of their childhoods._

_Not all children who are severely and repeatedly abused develop multiple personality disorder. However, if the abuse is repeatedly extreme and the child does not have enough time to recover emotionally, the disassociated thoughts and feelings may begin to take on lives of their own. Each cluster of thoughts tends to have a common emotional theme such as anger, sadness, or fear. Eventually, these clusters develop into full-blown personalities, each with its own memory and characteristics._

Misaki had obviously chosen these paragraphs for a reason, but why? Saruhiko glanced at the sleeping boy, he didn't understand exactly what the mark on Misaki's neck was, or why it didn't look like a normal bruise to him, but he couldn't help but get a chill in his stomach as he re-read the first sentence again and again.

_Most people diagnosed with MPD were either physically or sexually abused as children._

* * *

Saruhiko left the room after putting the books back into the chest and locking it shut, he just couldn't be in that place any more with his thoughts. He breath hitched in his throat when he turned around towards the circle of light that was ever present on the wood floor.

...He was sure that a child's shoe wasn't sitting there toppled over a moment ago. There was just one, the left one it seemed, with laces untied and lying in the middle of the bright circle like it was nobody's business. It looked like someone had dropped it...

His first impulse was to look up to see where it had come from, when Misaki's foreboding words from two weeks ago crossed his mind, "Just stay out of the light and don't look up. Whatever you do, please don't look up."

What would happen if he stepped within it, he wondered? Curiosity was never a strong point for him, he never could keep his nose out of where didn't belong.

He stepped forward into the light with the distinct feeling that he was being watched, but still he kept forward until he reached the shoe and then bent down to examine it more carefully. Brown leather, nothing special about it sans the strange smell wafting from it that reminded Saruhiko of the roadkill that occasionally turned up on the road outside of his previous orphanage. He always thought things like that were cool, the dead opossum he'd sometimes poke with a stick.

He looked up to see where it had come from, only to have to squint at the blinding light. It took him a moment to adjust to the light, even though when he got a clear view he had no idea where it had come from. The staircase, all the way up to the eight floor was lined in purple carpet, the railings dotted by candles that bounced off shadows on the walls. At the very top, the pinnacle of the tower or whatever the house slanted up into, was something hanging.

It was something oblong, with cloth hanging down and long poles at the bottom. From Saruhiko's view it looked like a collapsed tent with the poles still there, but the poles were thicker, more...meaty.

The poles were a pair of legs, with one bluish foot bare for the world to see.

Before he could even open his mouth to scream there was a gasp behind him. He spun around wildly, a terrified look in his eyes, to see Misaki standing staring at him in his open doorway with accusing narrowed eyes with a fury Saruhiko had never seen before.

Misaki lunged and gripped him by the shoulders with surprising strength and yanked him forwards into the room, the shoe slipping from his hands and remaining forgotten in that forsaken circle. The air rushed out of his lungs painfully when his back hit the ground, the wooden floorboards unforgiving. Misaki locked the door with nimble fingers and then suddenly Saruhiko found himself gasping for breath again when the other boy's hands latched around his throat.

"You bastard! I told you not to look up!" the voice sounded alien, it wasn't Misaki's voice-the quiet tone and shy eyes-but a rough sound with an accent that sounded familiar to Saruhiko. Misaki's eyes were blazing, nose scrunched up and teeth bared-reminding Saruhiko of an angry dog.

Then the entire thing changed in a heartbeat, confusion melted into hazel eyes and Misaki drew his hands from the others throat and held them up in balled fists of his own shirt, "Wha-" Misaki started in a small voice, "Hae's sorry! Hae didn't mean to hurt Tonbo!"

Saruhiko's mind was reeling from lack of oxygen, Tonbo? Hae? Didn't Hae mean fly?

Then everything changed again as suddenly Misaki collapsed onto him boneless like a broken doll and broke down on Saruhiko's chest, face buried into his shirt as he wailed in his normal voice, "Oh God forgive me for I have sinned!"

* * *

Yeah, good luck sleeping everybody! :) Smiles!


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